


Bad Romance

by Vozana666



Series: Bad Romance Duology [1]
Category: Dexter (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hexter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/pseuds/Vozana666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco are sent on a muggle studies trip when things go terribly wrong.</p><p>Dexter is lining up his next kill, and a dark haired bespectacled young man gets in his way, and changes his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a ship I created, Hexter (due to the fact that Daniel Radcliffe and Michael C. Hall were in a film together called Kill Your Darlings) and I'm not even sorry.
> 
> You can like the fan page here; www.facebook.com/HecticHexter

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Stephen Cooper-Henries; father of two, recently widowed and a high school teacher; everyone in the teacher staff room reportedly called him the man on campus due to the fact that his students scores beat majority of those in the state of Florida. That’s all most people knew about him.

 

But, there are more things to know about him; two things more, to be exact.

 

One; he _really_ likes children, maybe a little too much. Not his own of course; that’s too dangerous.

 

Two; he likes blood.

 

Stephen Cooper-Henries, seemingly an ordinary man, used to be named Donald Fitzgerald who was charged for copious amounts of child sex abuse. However; he was able to get out of the charges every time, there wasn’t enough evidence to indicate that he’d done anything at all to the children, that the only connection between the children was that he had taught them; apparently that wasn’t suspicious enough within itself. The children never came forward saying that Donald Fitzgerald had abused them; that they had made it up to get out of class; to get mean overzealous detention giving Donald Fitzgerald fired.

 

If that was really their intention, they succeeded. Donald was fired from his job, due to the fact that if they kept him it would reflect badly on the schools standards, which were apparently low enough as it was. Donald claimed to understand the issue and moved from Naples to Miami, with a different name, car, and a different story. Four kids suddenly changed to two, his age was now forty-five when it used to be fifty-seven. It seems no one at this school bothers with background checks; they’re that desperate for some more active staff.

 

Nothing gets more active than a serial killer and a paedophile as your favourite Science teacher.

 

The serial killing was new and no one had connected it to him, but it seemed logical. Once again, they were all his students that were going missing and the bodies...they just disappeared. 

 

But more evidence is needed.

 

Dexter sighed, sitting back in the driver’s seat of his car, watching Stephen from his car and numerous other students rushing past them to get to their first classes of the day. Three students in particular, walked towards the man nervously and showed him a slip of paper. He pointed them towards wherever they were meant to go.

 

“Maybe they’re Stephen’s new victims.”

 

Dexter turned to look towards the passenger car seat. Harry Morgan sat beside him, watching Stephen with a scowl on his face, waiting for the man to slip up and do something to indicate the monster the man really was.

 

“I doubt it,” Dexter replied, “they’re too new. If they went missing suddenly, it would be way too suspicious.”  

 

“People would just think they decided to move because this isn’t the school for them,” the man beside Dexter said with a shrug, “maybe he’s going in a new direction.”

 

“He isn’t,” Dexter muttered, watching as the three students, a boy with round glasses and messy black hair, a girl with bushy brown hair and a tall red haired boy, walked in the direction that Stephen was pointing, “he definitely wouldn’t pick them. They’re too new. He’s not that stupid.”

 

“They definitely picked the wrong school.”

 

Dexter nodded in agreement.

 

Dexter looked up through the window and groaned as he noticed Stephen Cooper-Henries walking towards his car, looking suspicious and maybe even a little peeved.

 

“Sir; what do you think you’re doing out here?” he asked, as soon as he reached the car and realised that Dexter’s window was open.

 

Dexter looked out the window in a bored fashion, which hoped spoke lengths about how much he really didn’t want to talk to the older man. Stephen was close to his retirement, surely. He had used to be a P.E teacher, until he had broken a hip in a car accident and had mental pins put in there, that caused painful spasms; you could tell by the way he walked, if he was too active.

 

“Just...” Dexter looked around, the boy with the black hair and glasses was still looking around, looking confused, “watching my son; it’s his first day here.”

 

Stephen continued to look suspiciously at him, Dexter couldn’t help but smirk at how hypocritical it all seemed.

 

“Well if you don’t leave the parking lot sir, I will have to call the authorities.”

 

Dexter tried, really hard, not to roll his eyes.

 

 _I am the authorities_ , he thought to himself, _just not the right one_.

 

Dexter nodded and put his car into reverse before backing out of his parking spot, secretly hoping that he could run over Stephen’s toes.

 

“Well, bye then!” Dexter drove off, not giving the older man a chance to say anything.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“I _really_ don’t like it here,” Ron muttered, “everything feels wrong.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “that’s because you’ve been pulled out of your element and what feels natural to you,” she said, “you’re used to being able to perform magic and not having to worry about who sees and seeing it every day like it’s a normal thing and not some special gift,” she looked towards Harry who was still looking around the school like it was something alien to him, “Harry and I however, are going to be fine with this...” she said, not sounding all too convinced.

 

“I don’t know about me,” Harry said, confirming her beliefs, “I don’t have fond memories of Muggle School.”

 

Ron cocked up a brow, “why’s that?” he asked.

 

“I was picked on a lot,” Harry said with a small shrug, “though, that was all Dudley’s fault; so maybe everything will be different here...especially seeing as we’re in bloody America.”

 

Hermione nodded, pulling up the straps of her school bag confidently, “it’s good that we keep positive,” she said with a small smile on her lips.

 

Ron tipped his head slightly and whispered into Harry’s ear, “is it just me, or every year she gets more annoying?”

 

Harry laughed, causing Hermione to turn around and glare at them suspiciously, but Harry and Ron looked innocently at her and she turned back around, walking slightly in front of them as if to get away.

 

“Hey there!" a voice shouted "Pothead! Weasel!”

 

Harry groaned, “What Malfoy?” he asked, turning around.

 

The blonde was smirking at them as he walked down the stairs and walked over quickly to catch up to them, “so, Potter,” he said slowly, “going to get into any fights while we’re here?” he asked.

 

“No,” Harry answered, “I don’t plan on getting into anything; I just want this muggle studies assignment to go by as fast as humanly possible.”

 

“Good idea,” Hermione muttered behind him, seeming to genuinely approve.

 

Draco’s smirk increased, “a little bit pathetic; don’t you think Potter?” Draco asked, completely ignoring Hermione, “are you scared Potter?”

 

“I don’t see how it’s pathetic and no I am not-.”

 

“Just shut up Malfoy,” Ron butt in, cutting Harry off making the dark haired boy roll his eyes, “I bet you couldn’t last five seconds in a genuine fist fight.”

 

“And I bet Potter couldn’t last two without you two by his side,” Draco scoffed, “or without his little wand.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes again and sighed. He pushed past him and continued to walk ahead, ignoring Draco completely.

 

“Just ignore him Harry,” Ron said, “even in the muggle world, he’s not worth it.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, wanting to end the conversation, “sure.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Debra asked, grabbing a doughnut from the doughnut box Dexter was balancing on his hand, and taking a bite into it, “I was missing my morning doughnut,” she said with her mouth full.

 

Dexter smiled, like Debra was a small puppy chasing its own tail, “sorry, just had some errands to do.”

 

Debra nodded, looking a little suspicious, she shrugged, “fair enough,” she walked towards her desk in her office, Dexter following her, and sat down, typing something into the computer with one hand while the other held her unfinished doughnut. Dexter was grateful she didn’t just throw it in the box like she did last time. She finished what she was typing and placed her feet up on the desk, almost knocking down her name plate that read _Lt. Debra Morgan_.

 

“You know,” Dexter said, sitting down on the couch near the windows looking into the office, the light brown blinds were still closed, “it still feels weird having my sister as the lieutenant.”

 

“Fucking eh,” Debra smiled and shook her head, “still feels weird to me...never in a million years did I think I would... _Angel_ should have gotten this job. Not me.”

 

“Oh well, that’s your opinion,” Dexter shrugged, “you know how Matthews runs; he only picks the best.”

 

“You’re flattering me,” Debra said, rolling her eyes and taking her feet of the desk, “besides; it’s probably just to get back at Laguerta,” she shrugged, “but I don’t care really; this is still pretty fun.”

 

“I don’t think this is supposed to be a fun job Deb,” Dexter said with a small smile, “so I’m guessing this would be a bad time to ask for a raise?”

 

Debra raised an eyebrow at Dexter, “fuck you.”

 

Dexter laughed, playing with one of the folds on the doughnut box sitting in his lap, “I’m going to take that as a no to the raise.”

 

Debra grinned, “You fucking bet. Maybe, I’ll give you a raise, if you bring in doughnuts on time _and_ if you find any evidence that will help us with this missing girl.”

 

Dexter frowned, putting the doughnut box beside him on the green faux leather couch, “missing girl?”

 

Debra nodded, “case just came in this morning; some girl from a high school around here has gone missing. Has been missing for the last three, maybe four days; her parents never even thought to call it in.”

 

“So...they just assumed...what?”

 

Debra gave a small shrug and rolled her eyes, “they just assumed she’d gone to a friend’s house, sick of her parents arguing,” Debra said, looking at the computer screen, “but they called all her friends; they found her cell phone under her bed, which was the first weird sign because, she took her phone everywhere; anyway, turns out the day she went missing, she went to cool _without_ her phone.”

 

“How convenient,” Dexter scoffed.

 

“That’s what I thought at first,” Debra said, “until they called up all her friends, some didn’t answer but they left voice messages and if they didn’t reply after that they went to their houses. Some of the friends said they weren’t at her place and the parents didn’t believe them so they went there too and there was no sign of her at all, and all the parents vouched for them. In the end, they didn’t find her and they called it in yesterday.”

 

“So...you’re saying she’s been kidnapped.”

 

“That’s their assumption, as well as mine,” Debra said.

 

“So why would you need me to pick up evidence to find a missing girl?” Dexter asked.

 

Debra sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “sorry I must have said it wrong,” she muttered, “because,” she said clearly, “we found her body this morning in a ditch and by the look of things it wasn’t a suicide, and one of her friends freaking out and trying to hide the body.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Dexter stood within the ditch- making sure not to twist his ankle on one of the rocks protruding from the earth; that would be just his luck- and took photos of the semi-naked fifteen year old in front of him, Clara Ewan; she just so happened to go to the same school that Stephen Cooper-Henries was teaching at.

 

_Yet another one of Stephen’s victims_

The girl had dried blood pooling around a wound in her head, which was slowing dyeing most of her blonde hair red, her eyes were staring up at the sky, sightlessly, her shirt was ripped and torn and she was wearing no pants or underwear. She had blood over her legs, some from cuts that were placed there, some of the blood coming from other areas.

 

_Why is Stephen suddenly so careless?_

Maybe it was old age, maybe he wanted to be caught; but either way this was unusual for him.

 

This was the first body Stephen had ever left behind.

 

All his other victims had just disappeared off the face of the earth, never left behind, only their family and friend’s fond memories showing that they ever existed.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry sat in his science class, he had been split up from Hermione and Ron; even Draco. He was in the science class room with people he didn’t know, they were throwing papers at the back of his head; traditional punishment for being the new kid, he supposed.

 

His science teachers name was Stephen Cooper-Henries. The old man looked about eighty, but surely he was younger than that. He had a strange little limp when he walked and when the old man talked, it sounded like someone was pinching his nose; or that he had a permanent cold.

 

“Welcome to the start of a new year,” Mr Cooper-Henries started off by saying. His eyes looked a little bloodshot; like he had been crying and had suddenly had to pull his act together, “it’s good to see we have some new faces around here,” he said, looking directly at Harry, “or a new face anyway.”

 

Harry felt uneasy around the man and his stomach clenched uncomfortably as the old man stared at him intensely.

 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

 

Harry cleared his throat, trying hard to not let on that he was nervous around the teacher; that he had listed as creepy in his mind, “erm...Harry. Harry Potter.”

 

A boy towards the back of the class, that from overhearing an earlier discussion was apparently named Trent, who reminded him a lot of Dudley, except thinner, shouted out, “what, Hairy Potter?

 

The class laughed and Mr Cooper-Henries seemed to roll his eyes and made a motion for the class to settle down, “yes, yes, very funny, very original,” the old man muttered. Harry sat there, trying to control himself to not hex the boy.

 

“Harry Potter,” the teacher said, Harry shuddered again, the way the man said his name made him feel gross. He looked down at his role, “yes, yes, you’re on my role. First time a new student has landed himself in the right classroom. Trent here kept on going to all the wrong classes; surprised he didn’t land himself in the wrong country.”

 

The boy in the back of the room stopped laughing and looked down at the black table top, Harry smirked a little and turned back towards the front of the class, where Stephen Cooper-Henries was smiling creepily at him.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry was pissed off.

 

He forgot to put his hand up to answer a question and now he had after school detention with Mr Cooper-Henries. All he wanted to do right now was go back to the hotel where he, Ron, Hermione and Draco were staying and go to sleep or read the English book he had been assigned. After school detention was literally the last thing he wanted on his first day of whatever the hell this hell was.

 

“How was science?” Hermione asked, walking towards Harry. She had escaped from her own English class, seeing as she was on a different line than Harry. She was holding a copy of a book named To Kill a Mockingbird. Harry was stuck with Romeo and Juliet.

 

“I got detention,” he muttered darkly, kicking a tiny pebble on the ground across the concrete where it hit the wall of the stairwell across from him.

 

Hermione looked worried, “why?! What did you do?!” she asked.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, naturally Hermione would ask what he did first before wondering whether or not it was truly unfair, “I forgot to raise my hand when I had the answer to a question; didn’t matter that I was actually right though.”

 

“Sounds like something Snape would do,” Hermione scoffed.

 

Harry nodded in agreement.

 

“I have science now,” Hermione said, “I have Mr...” she looked down at her time table that was in her book being used as a bookmark, “Nicolatus. I’ll talk to you at lunch time.”

 

Harry nodded and watched Hermione walk off, reading her book as she went.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry walked back towards the science lab door, which couldn’t be opened from the outside and waited. Ron and Hermione showed up not long after he arrived.

 

“So you have detention now mate?” Ron asked.

 

Harry nodded and sighed, sounding bored already, “yeah...”

 

“We could stay behind and wait for you, if you’d like?” Hermione asked, but Harry shook his head, lifting his back strap up onto his shoulder.

 

“No,” he said, “I’ll be fine; it’s just two hours,” Harry said, “I’ll be back at the hotel before you know it.”

 

Ron looked shocked about the two hours part, “blimey...that’s mad...”

 

“We’ve had longer detentions at Hogwarts,” Harry said with a bemused expression on his face, he sighed, “first day of school and I already hate this place,” he muttered, “anyway...you guys should go, just in case me talking to you before detention makes him even angrier.”

 

Ron and Hermione both nodded and made their way towards the school gate. Before turning the corner behind another smaller building that Harry assumed was the school’s swimming pool, they both waved back at him. Harry just nodded at the two of them.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

The science classroom door opened, the glass protector rattling as it did so. Stephen Cooper-Henries stood there, holding the door opened and looking like he couldn’t wait for this to be over and done with, but Harry felt it wasn’t in the same way he felt.

 

He walked over to the desk where Trent and his gang had been sitting earlier; at the back of the class. If Mr Cooper-Henries was going to be at the front of the class, Harry wanted to be as far away from the old man as possible.

 

He began to unpack his things, pencil case, books, whatever he may need and was about to walk towards his chair and sit down, when he felt an arm wrap around his neck, and a piece of funny smelling material was shoved into his face. Harry dropped the pencil he was holding and began to struggle, pulling against the strong arm wrapped around his neck. It wouldn’t budge and slowly, slowly his vision began to fade out, until he slowly couldn’t fight anymore.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Dexter slowly got out of his car and looked around. No one was here, teachers nor students it seemed. He hoped that wasn’t the case for one certain teacher. He glanced towards the teacher parking lot and noticed a car. He looked at the licence plate and was happy to realise that the numbers and letters matched those of Stephen Cooper-Henries.

 

 _Maybe he’s cleaning up his classroom_ , Dexter thought darkly to himself, _I might be able to have a nice ‘chat’ with him_.

 

Dexter began to jog towards what he knew to be Stephen’s class room; he’d naturally done a bit of research before coming here. He was hoping to get to the man before he left the science class room he taught in most of the time.

 

He got close the science rooms and stopped in front of the room across from the stairwell, the class protector slightly obscuring his view, but he could still see that Stephen Cooper-Henries was in the room.

 

But so was the black haired, bespectacled boy.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry woke up slowly, whatever having knocked him out slowly beginning to fade away and allow him to be conscious. The first thing he noticed, was that what he was lying on was cold on his back, the back of his legs, his arse...the second thing he noticed was that he was completely naked. He noticed that he was lying on the bench at the front of his science class room that he had watched an experiment being performed on, earlier that day. He slowly became more and more aware of his surroundings and felt a naked body on top of his, rather than saw. It didn’t take long for him to figure out it was his science teacher.

 

He noticed a man staring into the class room, looking angry, maybe even horrified.

 

 _If he’s so angry, why is he just standing there and watching?_ Harry thought to himself. He tried to move his arms, slowly as it dawned on him what was happening, but his wrists were tied to the pipes that ran along the bench, where all the gas came from for the Bunsen burners.

 

“No point moving buddy,” his science teacher grunted in his ear while he continued to thrust inside him, Harry could feel a burning sensation in his arse; he wanted to scream, “you ain’t goin’ anywhere...”

 

The door opened slowly and Harry wanted to cry out, tell the man to save him from this man, tell him to get it off the top of him because it wasn’t a man it was a monster.

 

The man seemed to understand his silent plea, which must have showed on his face as he continued to struggle against the rope tying his hands to the pipes. He tried to move his legs as well, but they were also tied up. The man came moved slowly, pressing his back against the wall making his way slowly behind his science teacher. Harry understood why he was being slow, but he wished he would be quicker. A flare of pain hit him and he almost screamed; Stephen pushed a rag into his mouth to shut him up.

 

The man slipped a wire around Stephen’s neck and pulled back, making Stephen choked, and reached for the wire around his throat. The man continued to pull back until Stephen was forced off of him, his member leaving Harry in a painful way, making Harry whimper.

 

The man tightened the wire and choked Stephen even more, Harry watched, panting slightly, tears pouring down his face.

 

“This is the last person you’re going to rape Stephen,” the man grunted, bringing out a syringe and stabbing Stephen in the neck and pushing the plunger down. A clear liquid entered the man’s neck and he passed out only a second after.

 

Harry looked down, afraid at what he might see as that area of his body continued to sting harshly. He was bleeding; a little pool of blood was on the bench top, the black of the bench top making it look like an extremely dark red.

 

Harry’s world began to go dark again, only just noticing the man beginning to cut him free when he passed out.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

When Harry woke back up, he didn’t feel as drowsy before and he instantly noticed that he was back to wearing all of his clothes. He appeared to be in some sort of old warehouse, he was lying on an old mattress. He looked up completely and saw his science teacher, making his heart leap and his stomach churn, before he noticed that his science teacher was lying naked on a table, struggling against whatever bound him there.

 

The man who had saved Harry was standing over him, putting blood on a small slide of glass with a dropper, like the ones they had used in science class earlier today. He covered the blood covered glass slide with another clean one. The small dot of blood grew twice the size as soon as the slides of glass connected.

 

Harry watched, unable to look away as the man raised a knife above his head and stabbed his science teacher in the chest, without a moment hesitation. Harry gasped sharply and the man turned to look at him, giving him a worried glance.

 

“You murdered him,” Harry blurted out unthinkingly, his voice shaking slightly, “you killed him.”

 

The man didn’t say anything and started the push his knife along the side of the table, cutting his ex science teachers lifeless body from the thing that had been holding him; it looked like plastic wrap.

 

“I suggest you look away,” the man said. Harry just continued to look at him stupidly. He shrugged a grabbed out a tiny sharp thing that looked like an electric pizza cutter, in a way. It began to make a whirring sound, its blade spinning fast. The man began to cut his ex science teacher into pieces.

 

The thing that worried Harry most was that he didn’t even seem disgusted by the view, and that he wasn’t going to report this to the authorities; maybe he was still a little dazed

 

When the man was finished, he began to place the bits of Stephen’s body into separate garbage bags, tying them up tightly at the top. When he was finished, Harry found his voice again.

 

“W-what’s your name?” Harry asked nervously, he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t worried that the man before him wasn’t going to murder him as well.

 

The man walked towards him, his white latex gloves no longer in his hand, having been taken off and chucked into one of the garbage bags.

 

“I’m not telling you,” the man said simply.

 

“I’m not going to tell the police,” Harry hastily promised, “”I just want to know who you are.”

 

“Why?”

 

Harry bit his lip, the only answer he really had for wanting to know sounded pathetic, even to him; but he said it anyway, “you saved me,” Harry stated lamely.

 

The man smirked, “not every damsel in distress needs to know their saviours nae,” the man muttered.

 

Harry’s eyes widened; was this man seriously mocking him right now after everything that had just happened?

 

Harry glared, “I am not a damsel in distress; I just want to know who you fucking are.”

 

He turned around towards the garbage bags and made out tightening them up even more, “Michael Johnstone,” he answered.

 

“You’re lying,” Harry said automatically, “I can tell; you’re lying.”

 

“No outsmarting you then,” the man said sarcastically.

 

“No, there isn’t,” Harry said seriously. He didn’t know what had suddenly crawled up this man’s arse, but it was pissing him right off.

 

The man looked back towards Harry, who blushed for some odd reason but looked back at the man, holding onto his gaze.

 

“I’ve already seen your face,” Harry said, “if I were going to tell the police, I could easily describe how you look to a profiler.”

 

The man sighed, sounding defeating. Harry almost grinned, but he couldn’t really bring himself to.

 

“Dexter,” the man answered.

 

Harry sighed, “Dexter who?”

 

“Dexter Morgan. What’s your name then? Mr. I have to know everything...”

 

Harry glared, “Harry Potter.”

 

“Well Harry Potter,” Dexter said, turning back towards him and standing in front of him in a way that intimidated Harry slightly, “you just witnessed a brutal murder. Feel free to go and vomit now,” Dexter said, remembering when his adoptive father, Harry Morgan had done just that when he had seen Dexter’s mess _after_ a brutal murder.

 

Harry frowned, “I’m not going to vomit,” he said menacingly, “I’ve seen people killed before...maybe not as brutally...but I’ve seen it happen,” Harry said, shifting his position on the old mattress. He winced, pain throbbing through his backside and up his back.

 

“Who died in front of you?” Dexter asked, sounding genuinely curious.

 

Harry bit his lip but answered anyway, despite how personal it was, “I watched my mother die in front of me when I was one. I didn’t see my dad die. When I was fourteen I watched a friend die. The guy who killed my parents ordered one of his followers to kill my friend.”

 

Dexter looked a little stunned, “so...both your parents are dead?” he asked.

 

Harry nodded.

 

Dexter shrugged, “so are mine.”

 

Harry cocked up a brow, “how did yours die?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t stepping over the line.

 

Dexter looked at Harry suspiciously before answering the question, “my mother was murdered in front of me when I was three years old. Cut up with a chainsaw.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say.

 

“As for my dad; well, the closest thing I ever had to a father committed suicide.”

 

Harry was still silent. Picking at lose threads on the mattress nervously.

 

“Don’t know what to say?” Dexter asked, “Well, if it’s anything pitying. I don’t want to hear it. I hate pity parties.”

 

Harry nodded slowly, “same.”

 

Everything went silent between the two. Harry stood up slowly, wincing loudly at the searing pain. He cleared his throat and tried not to let on how much he was hurting as he straightened up. He looked at his wrist for his watch, but noticed it was missing.

 

“What time is it?” Harry asked, sounding a little panicky.

 

“Ten,” Dexter answered nonchalantly.

 

Harry’s eyes widened, “ten PM?” Harry asked, his voice going up an octave.

 

Dexter nodded.

 

“Fuck!” Harry exclaimed, “my friends, they’re going to be wondering where I am!”

 

Harry headed out towards the door hoping that the muggle money he’d had earlier in his pocket was still there. It wasn’t, he growled in frustration.

 

Dexter sighed, “Would you like a lift?” he asked.

 

Harry cocked up a brow and looked back at Dexter with confusion written all over his face, he laughed a little “would I like an elevator?”

 

Dexter rolled his eyes, “would you like me to take you _home_?”

 

“Oh,” Harry said, “right yeah, sure,” he seemed a little shocked by the offer, “thanks.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just realised I accidentally listed the fanfic as complete because I didn't click the "this has multiple chapters" thing. I'm sorry, but yeah, this is a multi-chaptered fic that I'm currently in the progress of re-writing, because I thought the plot was good but the original was horribly written and things lined up incorrectly and the grammar...let's not get started on that.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

It’d been three weeks since Dexter had saved Harry from being Stephen Cooper-Henries next murder victim. He may not have saved him from being his next rape victim; but at least Harry was alive.

 

When he had dropped Harry off, he had no idea what had made him do it but he gave the boy his address and told him that if he ever needed some place to get away, if he was having problems coping after what had happened, he could always come over. Normally, anyone who had gone through such an ordeal would be sceptical to trust a stranger like that; Dexter knew he would have been, but Harry simply nodded dumbly, not looking even a little freaked out.

 

There are just some things you can do that can make a person trust you instantly.

 

At that moment, Dexter and Harry were sitting across from each other in Dexter’s apartment; Harry eating quietly, his gaze sweeping around the room, observing everything around him.

 

 _I don’t know how I can talk to him about this,_ Dexter thought to himself, _I don’t want to make him panic...I don’t even know the first thing about rape victims._ _Not living, breathing ones anyway._

“How are you feeling?” Dexter asked, looking at Harry awkwardly.

 

Harry shrugged, continuing to eat silently, refusing to look at Dexter, “better than two weeks ago I guess,” he sighed pathetically, “that first week really got to me.”

 

Dexter nodded.

 

 _It’s good that he wants to talk about it I guess_.

 

“But, enough about me.”

 

 _Damn_.

 

Harry looked towards Dexter, as if he were mapping out an area, an area of questions and which questions were safe to ask.

 

“I’m not exactly the most interesting person in the world,” Dexter muttered darkly, putting down the bowl of soup Jamie had made two days ago.

 

“I doubt that,” Harry said, “I see you work for Miami Metro.”

 

Dexter looked at Harry with something akin to shock. Harry rolled his eyes and pointed towards the bookshelf, where Dexter’s forensic badge sat.

 

“Yeah,” Dexter answered, “I work for Miami Metro in the homicide division; as A Blood Spatter Analyst.”

 

Harry nodded, looking impressed, finishing the half a sandwich Dexter had made for him before, “that sounds cool.”

 

“Do you have a part time job?” Dexter asked.

 

Harry shook his head, “no,” he said, “I only just moved down here from England,” he said, looking away towards the work desk where Dexter’s laptop sat.

 

“Rotten time to move here,” Dexter muttered.

 

_Rotten time to make a joke_

 

Harry snorted, despite himself, “Agreed.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry lay in bed, waiting for the lights to turn off outside of his and Draco’s bedroom that the two of them were sharing. The last light turned off and Harry sighed with relief.

 

“Just wait a few minutes,” he heard Draco whisper from the other side of the room. He heard the rustling of sheets as Draco turned towards him, smiling softly at him.

 

Harry waited, trying to be as patient as he could, but it was never easy.

 

“Okay.”

 

Harry climbed out of the bed and padded across the room in no time flat before slowly crawling into Draco’s bed. Draco’s arms were automatically wrapped around his waist; Draco’s lips felt warm on his neck as Harry settled down and pulled the duvet over him.

 

“I hate pretending to hate you,” Draco whispered softly.

 

Draco and Harry had gotten together not long after fourth year. They had been on and off, after almost getting caught numerous times, the fights had always left their relationship a bit rocky and sometimes split them up. But, they had been together for three months now, which was a new record for the both of them. The fact that they were away from Hogwarts for the sixth year muggle studies trip that _everyone_ had to participate in helped them immensely.

 

Harry turned and pressed his lips against Draco’s with a heavy, but happy sigh, “I miss this,” he whispered between kisses.

 

Draco sucked on Harry’s lower lip, “same,” he said, panting slightly.

 

Draco’s hands began making their way lower, away from Harry’s rib cage and tugging lightly on Harry’s pyjama pants. Harry gasped and pushed himself away, almost falling out of the bed in the process.

 

“Harry?” Draco asked looking concerned, “what’s wrong?”

 

Harry shook his head and bit the lip that Draco had just sucked. How could he explain to Draco what had happened to him?

 

“It’s a really long story,” Harry said, his eyes tearing up.

 

“I have a lot of time,” Draco muttered, bringing Harry closer to him again. Harry didn’t push away, knowing that Draco wouldn’t try that again; not after that reaction.

 

Harry took a deep breath, shaking slightly; tears falling from his eyes onto his pale cheeks after the blood had completely disappeared from his face. It had been three weeks and he hadn’t said a word to anyone.

 

“Draco...I was raped.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Hermione had been asleep for maybe ten minutes, if she was lucky, when she was shocked awake. She could hear something, choking, voices...it took her a minute to realise that it was Harry, and he was crying.

 

She hastily threw the covers off the bed and didn’t even bother putting on a dressing gown to cover up her tank top and shorts before quickly rushing out of hers and Ron’s bedroom door and into Harry’s and Draco’s.

 

When Hermione opened the door and rushed into the room, Hermione didn’t know what she had expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t Harry sitting on Draco’s bed, wrapped in the young blonde’s arms, his lips pressed against the dark haired boy’s head and whispering sweet nothings while they rocked back and forth together, trying to calm Harry down.

 

“Everything’s okay babe,” she heard Draco whisper reassuringly, “it isn’t your fault...”

 

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly. Both the boys jumped despite that, Harry bumping head against Draco’s chin and almost making the blonde bite his own tongue.

 

“It’s-.”

 

“I-.”

 

“I don’t care about whatever this is,” Hermione said, motioning towards where Draco and Harry were only just wrapped up in each other moments before, “I just want to know...” she turned to look at Harry, “what’s wrong?”

 

Harry looked to Draco, his eyes screaming at him to help. Draco nodded and turned to Hermione.

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco told Hermione everything he could, and tried to keep it in the order that Harry told him. In the end it must have all made sense, because Hermione was now sitting on the edge of Draco’s bed, rubbing Harry’s arm soothingly; her eyes looking a little moist.

 

“I can’t believe someone would do that,” Hermione whispered, “especially a teacher...” she paused for a moment, “have you reported him?” she asked.

 

Harry nodded, thinking _in a sense...yes I have_.

 

“I can’t believe...” Hermione paused, realising that she was rambling. She shook her head slightly and rubbed at her eyes with her wrist, “you’re okay, right?”

 

Harry nodded with small bittersweet smile, “better than I was two weeks ago...”

 

Harry was fiddling with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, not looking at Hermione, “so that’s why you were so depressed,” Hermione muttered, a guilty pang flowing through her body. She hadn’t done anything; she’d just assumed that maybe he was a little home sick, or that going to a muggle school now brought back some repressed memories...she had never thought...

 

“It makes sense,” Hermione muttered, hoping that that helped Harry feel less pathetic somehow.

 

“Thanks...”

 

Hermione desperately wanted to change the subject; she could tell that Harry didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was too...new. It was mentally scarring and scary and oh god... _poor Harry_.

 

“What’s going on between you and Malfoy?” Hermione asked jokingly, in an attempt to change the subject.

 

Harry looked at Draco who nodded, tightening his hold around the dark haired boy and burying his face into his shoulder, as if hiding from Hermione.

 

“We’ve...” Harry bit his lip nervously, but rubbed one of Draco’s arms that were wrapped around him, as if reassuringly, “we’ve been seeing each other for a while...on and off...”

Hermione’s eyes widened, shocked, “really, wow-.”

 

“What?”

 

Hermione, Harry and Draco all looked up and whipped their heads around towards the doorway, where Ron was standing, his dressing gown wrapped around him tightly and his hair a mess from being in bed for the last hour or so.

 

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry knocked on the apartment door in front of him, in a way that almost made it seem like he didn’t want to person behind the door to hear it. He was worried however that, at this time of night, he would wake the occupant up and make him angry.

 

But when Dexter opened the door, he looked wide awake and was in fact holding a manila envelope.

 

Dexter looked at him in confusion, “Harry? What’s wrong?” he asked slowly, looking at the two people standing behind Harry with an even more confused expression. It was a blonde boy and the bushy brunette girl that he’d seen on Harry’s first day.

 

“We need a place to stay,” Harry said, his voice shaking slightly, “just for tonight, we’ll find somewhere else in the morning but it’s just so late and-.”

 

Dexter nodded, effectively cutting off Harry’s explanation. The trio seemed to deflate with relief. The blonde boy peered around Harry and into Dexter’s apartment as Dexter stepped aside to let them all in.

 

“Are you sure there’s enough room to stay here Harry?” Draco asked, looking around the small apartment.

 

Dexter answered.

 

“There’s plenty of room,” he said, “My apartment is connected to the one next door. I have to pay double the rent but it’s worth it.”

 

“How many rooms are there?” Hermione asked nervously.

 

“Two in the other apartment, not including my son’s bedroom,” he said, “there’s one here,” Dexter answered the unasked question.

 

“Where’s Harry going to sleep?” Draco asked.

 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Harry muttered, “I’ve stayed here before, so...”

 

Harry headed over towards the couch before Dexter could stop him, putting his stuff on the ground almost territorially.

 

“During the day,” Dexter said, “you have no idea who could enter that door.”

 

“I-.”

 

“I’ll sleep in the lounge room,” Dexter cut Harry off; “you can sleep in my room.”

 

Harry was about to argue, but the look Dexter gave him made all argument he had disappear.

 

“Fine,” Harry said with a sigh. He picked up his stuff and took it to where he knew Dexter’s room was.

 

Dexter turned to look at both Draco and Hermione, who both looked as if they were deer’s caught in headlights, carrying their own luggage with white knuckles.

 

“I’ll show to the other two rooms then,” Dexter muttered, making his way over to the door and lead into the other apartment. The two shell-shocked teens followed him without argument.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

It was no long after arriving that Draco and Hermione went to bed. Draco stayed up a little longer than Hermione, making sure that Harry was okay and that if he was having trouble sleeping he could come sleep with Draco. Harry had just nodded and said goodnight. Dexter had been in the kitchen making coffee.

 

Dexter was now sitting on the couch in the lounge room, sipping his coffee and looking through whatever he had taken out of the manila envelope. When Harry sat down next to him, he saw that they were photos, and it seemed they were from a crime scene.

 

“So...” Harry started awkwardly, “what’s it like?” he asked, “going out and seeing those bodies?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dexter asked, looking at the photos, seeing if there was anything he’d missed on that day they’d been out there on the scene. The body had been taken to the morgue already, but they had the crime scene still covered; no one was to go near it.

 

“I mean...does it...I don’t know...”

 

“Strengthen my urge to kill?” Dexter asked for him.

 

Within the past few weeks, Dexter had explained to Harry about his father, or the closest thing he had ever really had to one, Harry Morgan, and about his dark passenger and how he had this urge to kill every now and then, but he’d lied and told Harry that Stephen had been his first, actual kill and now...it was like his drug, and he was hooked.

 

He was shocked to find that Harry had understood, and even when explained like this, Harry hadn’t seemed freaked out, at all. There was no judgement in the sixteen year olds eyes.

 

“Well...yeah, does it?” Harry asked curiously.

 

Dexter shook his head and put his mug of coffee down on the coffee table, “if anything, it stops it; controls it, but only a little and for a short amount of time. It’s not enough to actually get me to stop killing people.”

 

Harry nodded. He wondered why Harry was always so open with him, especially considering that night, the older man had been so hesitant to tell him anything. He shrugged it off and decided to change course.

 

“What case are you working on?” Harry asked, playing with the couch cushion beneath him nervously. He needed to stop fidgeting with things. He put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

 

Dexter muttered a reply as he shuffled through the photos again, picking one out at random and observing it, “I shouldn’t be telling you this; I could lose my job. But it’s a case on a girl that went missing...” Dexter paused, hoping the next thing he said wouldn’t make Harry panic on him, “she went to your high school; her name was Clara Ewan. She was kidnapped, raped and murdered before being dumped in a ditch.”

 

Harry shuddered slightly but didn’t show any other reaction to what Dexter said, “You think...maybe?”

 

“That Stephen Cooper-Henries had something to do with it?” Dexter asked, “I’m completely certain it was him.”

 

Harry looked thoughtful, “Clara Ewan...I’m pretty sure she was on the role for my science class.”

 

Dexter frowned slightly, making Harry grimace.

 

“He’s a sick bastard,” Harry said softly.

 

There were a few more minutes of silence, where Harry’s hands tapped lightly against his thighs, and Dexter continued to look at the photos from the crime scene. More and more carefully each time and he switched between the photos and sometimes compared them to one another. Harry sat back and didn’t say a word. Harry looked at the time, which showed on Dexter’s laptop. It was three in the morning.

 

“Can I have a look at the photos?” Harry asked finally, not feeling tired and wanting something to do. If he could help, he would finally feel useful for once.

 

Dexter looked at Harry for a moment, watching his face as if trying to pick out whether or not Harry could handle it.

 

“I can handle it,” Harry said, answering Dexter’s unspoken question, “I’m not that sensitive, I promise.”

 

Dexter continued to look at him for a moment, before nodding with a sigh and handing him the photos.

 

Harry studied the photos just as closely as Dexter had. It wasn’t too long before his eyes widened.

 

“What’s wrong?” Dexter asked automatically, snatching the photos from Harry’s hand. He didn’t fight; instead he stood up, placed himself in front of Dexter, and pointed at something on the photo from above.

 

“What’s he done to this girl,” Harry said, still pointing, “the cuts; they’re in the same place.”

 

“Cuts?” Dexter asked, looking down at the cuts on the girls back, “what about them?”

 

“Show me another photo,” Harry asked. Dexter did as he was told. Harry shook his head at a few and grabbed Dexter’s hand, making the man stop when he had supposedly found the right one.

 

“There,” Harry said, “there’s like a cut in cross above her heart- not enough to actually reach it, obviously, but deep enough to probably leave some scarring to those who live through it,” Harry said, pulling the top of his shirt aside, revealing a cut on Harry’s chest; a cross directly over his heart.

 

“And on the other photo, showing her back,” Harry grabbed the photos from the bottom of the pile, “there are cuts there that I have as well- when I woke up I noticed there were multiple parts of my body stinging, and when I looked I noticed them all.”

 

Harry paused for a moment, his face going red before taking his shirt off and turning around to expose the cuts along his back, “it’s like it’s a ritual, what Stephen did. He’s done it before. It’s like his signature.”

 

“But what’s the point of a signature when nobody is finding the bodies?” Dexter asked, “This is the first victim we’ve ever found of his.”

 

Harry shrugged, turning back around, “I don’t know.”

 

Dexter looked back down at the photo of Clara Ewan and the way the cuts formed on her back, not quite the same as Harry’s. They seemed to say something; that was the most interesting part. The way they were placed, it was almost like Stephen was writing a message.

 

“The cuts; they form words,” Dexter said showing the photo to Harry, “turn around again.”

 

Harry nodded, and waited.

 

“I think they’re in a different language,” Dexter sighed, “great.”

 

Harry turned around and grabbed at the photo and frowned, “if it’s a different language, I’ll get Hermione; she’ll at least know what language it is.”

 

While Harry rushed off to Hermione’s room, Dexter continued to shuffle through the photos. He finished his coffee and took it to the sink and just as he went to sit back down, Harry returned with Hermione, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, looking tired, yet alert at the same time.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked as Dexter sat back down and Harry picked up the photos before Dexter could, “Harry didn’t explain it all very well...”

 

“It’s a long story,” Harry answered, “but there are cuts on my back that might actually be writing and we want to know what language it is.”

 

Harry turned back around and Hermione stepped closer, staring at the carvings in Harry’s back. It didn’t take long for her to say, “It’s in Latin.”

 

“Just our luck,” Harry muttered, “you’re practically fluent.”

 

Dexter looked confused, why would someone be fluent in a dead language? He didn’t ask.

 

Hermione smiled and continued to look at Harry’s back, trying to decipher the words, “it...it says....” Hermione’s expression turned to shock.

 

“What does it say?” Dexter asked hastily.

 

“ _Donec Mors nobis faciunt, pars,_ ” Hermione answered, “it means until death do us part.”

 

Harry scrunched up his face in disgust, “that’s what people say when they get married.”

 

Hermione nodded, “which is exactly what shocked me,” she said, “something that’s meant to be so romantic being brutalised- unless, this is some sort of sick marriage ritual. Then there’s a double meaning to it.”

 

Dexter looked at the picture of Clara Ewan again, remembering the different markings on her back, “can you translate these as well?” he asked, “they’re different on here.”

 

Hermione looked curious, “on what?” she asked.

 

“Crime scene,” Dexter answered, “I hope you’re not opposed to seeing pictures of a dead body.”

 

Hermione shook her head and so Dexter gave her the photos. She instantly got that look on her face again; Harry was almost tempted to laugh. It was like they were back at school trying to learn a particularly hard spell; it was like Hermione was expecting a good grade for all of this.

 

“Donec Morte nos iterum conveniant,” Hermione muttered with a small frown, “until death we meet again.”

 

Harry turned around and looked at Dexter, “are you going to interview her family?” he asked suddenly.

 

Dexter shook his head slowly, chucking the other pictures he hadn’t given to Hermione on the coffee table, almost in defeat, “that’s not my job,” he muttered.

 

“Well, is Miami Metro gong to interview Clara Ewan’s parents?” Harry asked, sounding impatient.

 

Dexter shrugged, “I could get them onto doing so.”

 

Hermione nodded, it was like she was taking over the case herself, “good, I have a feeling about...why her back says this in particular. But it sounds stupid, so I’m really not sure and I don’t want to be wrong and jump to conclusions-.”

 

“What’s your theory Hermione?” Harry asked, sounding more and more impatient by the minute.

 

“Well,” Hermione sat down on the couch next to Dexter, throwing Harry his shirt back. He instantly shrugged it back on and sat down on the floor next to the coffee table, “look at the picture,” she said pointing at it, “now, I don’t know why exactly he cut her up like this-.”

 

“It’s a ritual,” Dexter said, “that’s what Harry and I assume anyway.”

 

Harry nodded, “everywhere Clara was cut; I was cut as well.”

 

Hermione gave him a soft almost pitying look, until he glared at her. She shook her head, trying not to let tears well up in her eyes as she continued on with her theory, “Now...Harry, your back says until death do us part and Clara’s says until death, we meet again.”

 

“Where are you going with this?” Dexter asked, sounding suspicious.

 

“Well, what if Clara and Mr Cooper-Henries were...secretly...together?” she asked, her face going red even mentioning it, worried she sounded stupid.

 

Harry frowned, “you mean, _dating_?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

 

Hermione nodded, “dating, sleeping together; whatever you want to call it. What if Clara liked Mr Cooper-Henries; _seduced_ him, and then they started being...”

 

“Fuck buddies?” Dexter asked crudely.

 

Hermione simply nodded.

 

“So, what you’re trying to say is...?” Harry pushed on.

 

“That maybe Clara meant more to Mr Cooper-Henries than the rest of his victims,” Hermione said quietly, “they had a stronger connection.”

 

Harry shrugged, “seems plausible.”

 

“It’s a good start,” Dexter said, “but I feel like there’s something more to it.”

 

“Either way,” Hermione said, almost sounding defensive, “they may have been in a relationship and a strong one at that.”  


 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry had fallen asleep on the couch while Hermione and Dexter discussed multiple possibilities; when Hermione decided to go to bed, it was around six in the morning.

 

“Harry, wake up.”

 

All he got from Harry was a small groan, and a push on his leg that didn’t even make him move. Dexter rolled his eyes; “come on Harry,” he said shaking the younger male, “wake up.”

 

Harry’s eyes fluttered open with another groan, he turned onto his back and looked up at Dexter, looking even more tired than he had before he’d gone to sleep, “fuck...what time is it?” he asked.

 

“Six in the morning...”

 

“Shit,” Harry cursed, going to rub the palm of his hands into his eyes; only to discover he had left his glasses on.

 

“Come on,” Dexter held out a hand for Harry to grab; he did and Dexter helped pull him off from the couch, “you know where my room is.”

 

Harry nodded and walked towards the open door; he turned around quickly and said, “Thanks...you know...for letting us stay here when we had nowhere else to go...”

 

Dexter nodded, “you’re welcome...though after a decent sleep, I expect you to tell me why you suddenly had to come here. Okay?” he asked.

 

“I still don’t understand why I can’t sleep on the couch,” Harry muttered, “it seems unfair to you-.”

 

“I told you,” Dexter said, sitting down on the couch and putting the photographs back inside the manila envelope, “you never know who could attempt to break into this apartment. It’s Miami.”

 

Harry looked like he was going to argue some more, until Dexter gave him a look that basically screamed, _argue anymore and I will lock you in my room until you’re literally forced to get a decent night’s sleep_.

 

“Okay,” Harry said with a nod, walking into Dexter’s room and closing the door behind him quietly. It shut with a little click and Dexter heard nothing more.

 

As Harry got into Dexter’s bed, burying himself under the bed sheets, surrounded in Dexter’s scent, he couldn’t help but feel safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Bad Romance

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Dexter watched for a moment as Harry slept; it was ten in the morning and Harry was supposed to be at school, but Dexter hadn’t woken him. Hermione and Draco had woken up and gotten ready for school, despite the fact that Hermione was exhausted from the night before. Dexter had told the two that Harry needed more sleep after the stress of the past few weeks. They had nodded and left the apartment, without complaint.

 

But now, Harry had to wake up, they needed to talk.

 

“Harry.”

 

No stirring.

 

Dexter walked over to his bed and began softly shaking the boy, “Harry, come on, time to wake up.”

 

Harry’s eyes opened instantly and he looked startled; but he relaxed when he noticed it was only Dexter. Dexter almost chuckled at the irony.

 

“Morning,” Harry mumbled tiredly, relaxing back on the mattress after being startled awake. He stretched a little, “what time is it?” he asked.

 

“Ten in the morning,” Dexter answered.

 

Harry sat up, looking alarmed, his feet getting tangled in the sheets as he tried to get out of the bed, only getting more and more tangled, “but- crap- I’m meant to be at school!” he exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to untangle his feet from the sheets.

 

“I thought you needed a day off,” Dexter said calmly, looking amused, “besides, we need to talk about something.”

 

Harry paused and looked up at Dexter curiously, “what do we need to talk about?” he asked, finally extracting his feet from the bed sheets.

 

“Your rape,” Dexter said bluntly. Yes, he cared for the younger man, but he wasn’t going to beat around the bush for him.

 

Harry looked down at his lap, “it’s over; I don’t understand...why should it matter now?”

 

He slowly got out of the bed and walked out the open bedroom door and into the kitchen, Dexter following him in the process, “how have you been feeling?” he asked, handing Harry a mug of hot coffee. He took it a muttered a small thank you, but looked grateful all the same.

 

“Better,” he said with a small shrug, heading over towards the couch and placing his coffee on the coffee table, waiting for it to cool down.

 

Dexter sighed, this was hard to ask, “Do you think...do you think you would be able to _openly_ talk about it to, say, a detective at Miami Metro?”

 

Harry shook his head instantly, “I don’t want anyone else to know; only you, because you saved me, Draco because I told him and Hermione because she found out, but no one else- that’s my limit.”

 

Dexter sighed and took a sip of his coffee; he’d hoped Harry _wouldn’t_ say that.

 

“You’re going to have to tell someone,” he said, holding his coffee against his leg, “we need more evidence against Stephen Cooper-Henries.”

 

“But he’s dead!” Harry exclaimed, “ _You_ killed him!”

 

Dexter nodded as if Harry had a point, “yes, but they don’t know that. They still think Stephen Cooper-Henries is out there; they know he’s no longer at your school, they think he’s run away. But there’s also another family out there, who wants their daughter’s killer to be known. They want _closure_ ; and with the information you know- without mentioning me killing him- you could bring that closure to them.”

 

Harry’s eyes turned dark, “well, I can’t give them that,” he snapped.

 

“Harry, you have to-.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything!” Harry said loudly, standing up and almost knocking over his coffee which was perched at the very edge of the coffee table, “I can hardly bare to put up with myself after what happened. I can hardly take a shower without ripping most of my skin off,” Harry started breathing heavily, “because it’s been three, nearly four weeks and I still feel dirty! I feel as if this is going to haunt me for the rest of my life; and I will forever be known as this dirty little freak.”

 

They were both silent for a moment. Dexter didn’t know what to do. Did he get up and hug to boy? Or would Harry just push him away, or freak out. Dexter couldn’t predict what Harry’s next action would be, and that bothered him.

 

“Look,” Harry said, sounding calmer, “me coming out that I was raped, it’s like...you coming out that you’re a serial killer-.”

 

“How is that even remotely the same thing?” Dexter asked, getting annoyed, “besides; I’m not a serial killer- Stephen was my first kill-.”

 

“You’re lying to me again,” Harry said, “and I know for a fact you are. I found your fucking blood slides. Also the fact, that when you were talking about your dark passenger...you spoke in a way that sounded like you’d been dealing with it for years; and that the urge was so strong that if you didn’t succumb to it, you would be driven insane,” he finished, “I’m not stupid Dexter.”

 

Dexter stayed silent. The only thing you could hear was the two of them breathing.

 

“It’s fine,” Harry muttered, “don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone; and I’m not going to.”

 

_Unless provoked._

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

After a few hours of continuous convincing, Dexter finally got Harry to agree to going to Miami Metro station and admitting that he was a rape victim of Stephen Cooper-Henries.

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Harry said, walking onto the floor Dexter said he worked on, his breathing getting fast and heavy, he was scared “I don’t think I can admit it.”

 

“You’re going to hate to,” Dexter said, “think about that family; what they must be going through at the moment, constantly wondering who their daughter’s killer is.”

 

Harry frowned, he knew Dexter was guilt tripping him; big time. But it was also true. At least; if he was a parent, he’d be constantly wondering who murdered his child and would want justice. He bit his lip for a moment and nodded, continuing to walk forwards, following Dexter.

 

Dexter knocked on a door, Harry looked up at the sign; it said Lt. Debra M.

 

“Dex,” a woman said with a smile as she opened the door, “who’s this?” she asked, looking at Harry not unkindly.

 

“A new friend of mine,” Dexter muttered, “he...wants to admit to something that happened to him, and he thinks it might be connected to the murder of Clara Ewan.”

 

Debra nodded and hastily let them into the room, without a word she closed the door behind her.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry sat in an interrogation room, feeling like a criminal. He looked at the camera in the corner of the room nervously; he knew Dexter was standing outside, watching all this on a TV. Dexter said he would.

 

He didn’t know whether this made him happier, or even more comfortable that Dexter was close by, or annoyed, because in the end, if he broke down then Dexter would see it all. He didn’t want Dexter to see him so weak, especially considering the fact that Dexter had seen what had happened to him.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Potter-.”

 

“Call me Harry,” Harry requested.

 

Angel Batista nodded, “good afternoon Harry,” he said with a warm smile, “my name is Angel Batista. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

 

Harry nodded, “I know,” he muttered, drying to stay calm. He could hear more than feel the bottom of his shoes clicking against the floor nervously as Angel sat down in front of him, a friendly smile still on his face. Harry couldn’t help the foreboding feeling around him as he sat in the interrogation room.

 

“So...how do you know Clara Ewan?” he asked.

 

“We went to the same school,” Harry said, it wasn’t exactly a lie after all. He’d never met the other girl; she’d disappeared before he’d gone to the school. But either way, she had gone there.

 

“Were you close?” Angel asked.

 

_Rats_

 

“Not really,” Harry said with a small shrug, “but I knew who she was,” now that was a lie. He didn’t know of her existence at all until he’d seen the photos and heard what Dexter had to say about her murder. The only other mention of her before that was her name on the science class role, and he hadn’t really been paying attention at the time.

 

“So; when you heard that she had been murdered...”

 

“I didn’t,” Harry said, “I was...” he bit his lip, hoping this didn’t get Dexter into trouble, “I was over at Dexter’s place, and...Well, I found the pictures of the crime scene,” Harry lied, “they were on his coffee table and I went over to have a look and I recognised Clara.”

 

Angel nodded patiently, “so,” he continued, “how do you know Clara’s killer?” he asked, “why do you suspect...” he cleared his throat and read off of a piece of paper in front of him, “why do you suspect Stephen Cooper-Henries had anything to do with the murder of Clara Ewan?”

 

Harry froze. He was hoping that he would somehow skip through the interview without actually mentioning it; but it was stupid to assume that would be the case.

 

“Because...” Harry’s breathing began speeding up like the incident had just happened yesterday, “because, he raped me.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

Dexter sat outside, watching Harry’s interrogation, like he said he would, with Debra and half of Miami Metro Homicide. Harry’s breathing was picking up pace which was visible even on their crappy quality camera. Harry raised the back of his palms to his eyes and began rubbing harshly at them.

 

“Poor kid,” Debra said, sounding genuinely sympathetic, “Stephen Cooper-Henries is going down.”

 

 _He already is down_ , Dexter thought, _under the blue waters of Miami in a black garbage bag, right where he belongs..._

 

“How did you become friends with this kid Dex?” Debra asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Dexter shrugged innocently, “I guess it just sort of happened.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry was trying hard not to cry as he explained what had happened the night he had been called back for after school detention with Mr Cooper-Henries, and had been raped in his science class room. But it was really hard to contain the tears that had been threatening to burst out weeks ago, that he had refused to let out. He was beginning to regret that now.

 

“He...he put a cloth on my mouth,” Harry said between gasps of air, “and...I dunno, I just sort of passed out and when I woke up we...we were both naked and, and he was lying on top of me and I was tied up to the bench...” he looked up at the camera, hoping that Dexter would understand the plea on his face, _please just get me out of here_.

 

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the fact that his face was wet, “my whole body was shaking and burning, and I was bleeding...” Harry began to cry loudly, “I can’t do this,” he whimpered, “I can’t, I’m so, so sorry, but I just can’t,” he laid his head down on the table and covered it with his arms, “I can’t anymore, I really can’t I’m sorry I just can’t!”

 

Angel watched as Harry continued to cry; he didn’t have the heart to ask him anymore questions, not even to touch his shoulder and try to get him to calm down. He left the boy alone, feeling sorry for Harry Potter, who was obviously a very broken boy.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Dexter got up from his spot on the table hastily and ran away from the TV room, half of Miami Metro Homicide and Deb watching him as he did so. He made his way towards the interrogation room he knew Harry was in and opened the door, bursting into the room, the door slamming into the wall behind it.

 

He quickly rushed over to Harry’s side and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and tried to help the young man to get up.

 

“No! Get off! Get off of me!” Harry shouted. Harry finally looked up and realised it was Dexter. Before Dexter could do anything, Harry wrapped his arms around Dexter’s neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

 

Dexter rubbed his back soothingly as the boy continued to cry. He seemed like he would never stop.

 

“Come on Harry,” Dexter whispered, “I’ll take you back to my place. I’ll get you out of here.”

 

Harry let go and let Dexter help him out of the room, Angel following not too far behind them as they left the interrogation room.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Thanks.”

 

Dexter looked up, Harry had finished eating the bowl of ice cream Debra had said might help his nerves. Dexter had bought some and it seemed to do the trick; at least for now.

 

Dexter gave him a curious look, “what for?” he asked.

 

Harry shrugged, “for finally allowing me to admit to myself what happened.”

 

There was a pause before Harry continued, sounding emotionally and physically exhausted, “not only to other people; but also to myself.”

 

Dexter waited as Harry struggled to continue on.

 

“Every night, I continuously told myself that it never happened. That, I was never raped,” Harry shrugged, “but I’ve accepted it now, and I have you to thank for that. So, thank you.”

 

Dexter nodded slowly, “you’re welcome.”

 

“And...” Harry chuckled, “sorry for crying all over you,” Harry said, “I know I was pathetic, but...well, I shocked even myself today.”

 

“You aren’t pathetic,” Dexter said sternly, “you’re brave for being able to admit it people and for being able to deal with it every day.”

 

“I’m not so sure-.”

 

“You are,” Dexter said. The tone in which he said it in made Harry realise that no matter what he said, that wasn’t going to change Dexter’s opinion of him.

 

Harry smiled softly, “thanks Dexter.”

 

Dexter looked over towards Harry, who was crying silently and looked exhausted and he fidgeted with the spoon in his bowl, that was no completely empty of ice cream. Harry had had about three bowls full.

 

Dexter stood up and walked towards Harry, kneeling down in front of him. Dexter was unsure of what to do, other than hug him, so that’s what he did. He felt Harry’s breathing begin to speed up, indicating that the young man was full on crying again.

 

Dexter pulled away from Harry for a moment and smiled softly at him, “you need some sleep; today’s been difficult for you and you’ve only been awake for maybe; three hours?”

 

Harry nodded, “I kept waking up after I fell asleep around six. At one point I woke at eight and just...yeah...”

 

Dexter’s eyes widened, “then you definitely need some sleep.”

 

Harry chuckled, “yeah, I guess I do.”

 

Dexter stood up and walked towards his bedroom, Harry following him.

 

Dexter closed the blinds to his bedroom, blocking all the sun out from the room. Harry was already lying on his bed, seemingly asleep. Dexter went to leave the room when Harry’s quite voice stopped him; he could barely hear it but even still he got what he said loud and clear.

 

“Stay with me?”

 

Dexter hesitated for a moment, feeling that it might be a little inappropriate considering the circumstances.

 

But, in the end he decided yes and even though he knew Harry couldn’t see it, he nodded and lay down next to Harry on the bed. Harry’s breathing instantly sounded more even, knowing that another human presence was with him in the room.

 

“Dexter?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Harry sighed, “Why do these things happen to me?”

 

Dexter didn’t exactly know what other bad things had happened to Harry in his life; he knew very little of it, the only bit he knew about it was that Harry had witnessed his mother’s death, and he was an orphan. His aunt and uncle took care of him and they weren’t exactly the nicest people, along with his cousin Dudley, who was the reason he had been bullied in his younger school years and even at home his cousin had been a little rough. He’d also witnessed the death of a friend at the age of fourteen; only two years ago, and Dexter was more than certain than that within itself had taken its toll on Harry, in a way that Dexter could only attempt to imagine.

 

“Because,” Dexter finally answered, trying to find something appropriate to say that wouldn’t hurt Harry even more. He settled on one of the most cliché phrases he could possibly imagine, “these things happen to good people.”

 

Harry nodded and curled in on himself a little more, hugging tightly onto the pillow his head rested on. He looked small, weak; but not in a negative way like many would imagine.

 

It was at this very moment that Dexter vowed to protect Harry.

 

No matter what

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!
> 
> As you know, this fanfiction is a re-write so everything in a way is already complete so I don't have an excuse like, writers block, so you guys don't hate me. The thing is, this fanfiction didn't have many views so I set it back for a while and tried to finish the ones with more readers. NOW IT HAS MORE VIEWS AND I FEEL SO BAD!
> 
> Anyways, here is the next chapter. Finally, some Hexter is happening.

Bad Romance

 

Chapter Four

 

 

“Hey, Potter!”

 

“I heard you lost your virginity!”

 

There was a hearty chuckle from behind him as he walked quickly towards his next class, English.

 

“Who knew that paedophile science teachers were your thing,” there was a boom of laughter from a bunch of guys and a loud squawk of laughter from a girl. Harry continued to walk faster and not look back.

 

It seemed that someone had overheard his meeting with the principal this morning. Dexter and Angel had dragged him into the principal’s office and told him he needed to make a statement against Stephen Cooper-Henries; to make sure that the man would never get hired at the school again. Though, Harry and Dexter both knew better.

 

And now the news of his ‘kinky sex with the science teacher’ was around the school, peering at him left right and centre; like his muggle school life needed to get any worse.

 

Harry turned a corner and went into the English class area of the school; Draco was standing near his class room door, looking at him worriedly, “are you okay?” Draco asked in a whisper, “I heard what’s going around the school; how did it get out?”

 

Harry just shook his head, “I don’t really feel like talking about it right now,” he said not unkindly, “maybe later; okay?” he asked.

 

“Okay.”

 

The door of the class room opened early that day and Harry breathed a sigh of relief; this class would be better, especially with Draco in it with him.

 

Well, that’s what he assumed.  


 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It was in the middle of their English class, when the teacher was facing the board, when someone decided to throw a paper airplane at him. It said on one of the wings ‘open me’.

 

Hands shaking, he slowly opened the paper airplane, noticing in the corner of his eye Draco watching him as he did so. The picture inside was a crude drawing of two stick figures in compromising positions, arrows pointing at their heads, reading _teacher_ and _Hairy Potter_.

 

The paper airplane began to smoke in his hands. He tried to calm down but he couldn’t; he was in such an emotional state that his magic was slowly becoming hard to control. He threw the paper down on the desk and quickly ran out of the room, leaving his school bag and everything behind, including Draco, trying to block out the sounds of laughter behind him.

 

He ran to the school bubblers and covered his hands in water before rubbing his face slightly, trying to cool down, telling himself he was okay.

 

He briefly remembered running past Ron, who had given him a worried glance, which had quickly turned to loathsome; as if he felt sorry for Harry but he still couldn’t forgive him for whatever Harry had done to royally piss the red head off.

 

He continued to run.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Harry?”

 

Harry was standing outside of Dexter’s apartment door, panting heavily and trying to get inside.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dexter asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

 

“People...know...” Harry muttered between laboured breathing, “They... _know_...”

 

Dexter sighed and opened the door for Harry to come in. Harry headed straight for the couch and lied down, his face looking a little green. Dexter closed the door and brought him a glass of water, “what happened?” he asked.

 

Harry sculled down the drink of water in about two seconds before lying back down on the couch again, looking exhausted. He didn’t talk.

 

“Harry, what happened?” Dexter asked again, trying to keep his tone polite.

 

“They found out,” Harry muttered, “they know about what happened with me and Cooper-Henries...someone over heard us in the principal’s office this morning and now they’ve turned it into some creepy kinky sex thing.”

 

Dexter sighed, rubbing his face tiredly and wishing he could stay and talk about it with Harry.

 

“I don’t want to go back Dex...I know I need to but I just can’t-.”

 

“I won’t make you,” Dexter said, he looked down at his watch and sighed, “I would like to stay,” he said, “but I have to go back to work; I only came back because I forgot my laptop.”

 

Harry nodded, not seeming to mind either way as long as he was able to stay home and not go back to that hell hole.

 

Dexter got up with a sigh and grabbed his laptop back and told Harry to help himself to whatever food was available before leaving his apartment, locking the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

It was two-thirty in the afternoon when Dexter was finally able to go back home. They still had no leads on Stephen Cooper-Henries other than the fact that the man had seemed to skip town; not having appeared home for a few days, nor at the school at which he taught at. Dexter smirked, thankful there was no zombie like Stephen Cooper-Henries walking around.

 

When he unlocked the door to his apartment, it appeared empty. He remembered that Hermione and Draco weren’t meant to be home until three o’clock, three thirty if they walked. The next thing Dexter noticed was that the AC cover was off, and his blood sides weren’t inside.

 

He froze, almost dropped his laptop bag and forensic kit.

 

 _He’s gone to the police_ , Dexter’s first thought was; _he’s gone to the police and he’s telling them everything; he was just waiting for the perfect moment._

The fact that Dexter hadn’t even been stopped or neither had he seen Harry at Miami Metro even occurred to him, as he was pulled quickly out of his thoughts by the sound of heart-wrenching sobs.

 

Dexter was silently thankful to realise it was Harry.

 

He rushed into the bathroom and opened the door, shocked by what he saw.

 

Harry lying on the bathroom floor, crying, Dexter’s box of blood slides sitting on the floor, one of them taken out and snapped in half. Harry’s hands were bleeding.

 

“I crushed it,” Harry said quietly, “I couldn’t handle it, I’m sorry,” he showed Dexter the mess in his hands. Little shards of glass stabbing him in the hands and the blood slides successfully snapped in half.

 

Dexter sighed, “Why?” he asked, “why couldn’t you handle it?”

 

Harry shrugged, wiping his eyes on the back of his arm, accidentally getting blood on his eye and cheek, “just...you collected him like a trophy...as if he actually means something, but the reality is he isn’t worth shit,” Harry muttered angrily, “he’s not good enough to be a trophy.”

 

Dexter nodded, “come on, get up,” he said, holding out his hand for Harry to grab. Harry shook his head, “come on, you can’t do this to yourself,” Dexter said, trying to coax him into getting up, “you’re torturing yourself here.”

 

“Maybe that’s what I want to do,” Harry said, picking shards of glass from his hand and flicking them on the floor, the glass hitting the tiles with a little _ping_ every so often, “I can’t live normally when I feel so fucking disgusting all the time,” he said with a whimper.

 

“Do you really think that torturing yourself like this is going to fix anything?” Dexter asked, beginning to sound frustrated, “literally destroying yourself over your past isn’t going to change or improve what happened. The best thing you can do right now, to rub it in Stephen Cooper-Henries dead face, is to live your life, like it happened, but not let it destroy you,” he said, “let it motivate you to become something better than him.”

 

Harry’s breath was shaking; Dexter looked into Harry’s eyes and they showed years of stress, heart break, loneliness. They told a story of countless problems that no teenager should have to face. The eyes seemed dead.

 

But then, something in them flashed, they seemed alive again. Harry turned facing Dexter, his face moving tentatively closer to his; his eyes slowly beginning to close. Before Dexter could tell himself that this was wrong, so very wrong; he closed his eyes too and waited.

 

Waited

 

And then he could feel the familiar sensation of a pair of lips pressing softly against his own. Though somehow, this felt different than all those other times, with Rita or Lila, or even Lumen. This was something new, and hard to explain.

 

This, what he was feeling now, wasn’t his way of making a disguise seem more genuine, this wasn’t a lie. This was real.

 

Harry sat back and looked shocked, “I’m sorry,” he said stressfully, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Dexter pressed a finger against the young man’s soft, pink lips before going to kiss Harry, Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as their lips pressed together. Dexter was kissing him, and everything seemed okay for the moment, as their lips moved in sync with one another.

 

Harry’s bloodied hand worked its way into Dexter’s hair, a little of Harry’s blood smudging on the side of Dexter’s face, but this only seemed to add to the kisses intensity. Harry knew it was wrong, and maybe he should be afraid that Dexter was taking advantage of him; but he wasn’t afraid.

 

He felt safe again.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry was sitting in the lounge room with Dexter, getting the cuts on his hand sewed up, which seemed to have been a little deeper than Harry had originally thought. He watched as the skin got pulled back together, barely feeling any of the pain. He looked up into Dexter’s face, as the man concentrated on the task.

 

“When did you learn how to do stitches?” Harry asked, trying to make conversation, “you’re a blood spatter analyst. Not a doctor.”

 

Dexter smiled, “I find that all areas have something worth learning; might be useful one day.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement, “true.”

 

As Dexter finished stitching up the wound, there was a knock on the door. Dexter hastily wrapped a bandage around the wound, and walked over to the door to answer it. Hermione and Draco were standing there, both looking tired from their day. When Hermione saw Harry, she sighed as if with relief.

 

She walked inside, Draco following her and dropping his school bag next to Dexter’s desk while Hermione went and put hers in the room she was staying in.

 

When she returned, she spotted the bandage on Harry’s hand, “are you okay?” she asked, sounding worried, “what happened?”

 

“Nothing,” Harry said with a nonchalant shrug. When Hermione glared at him he rolled his eyes, “I’m fine!” he said exasperatedly, “it’s nothing big to worry about Hermione.”

 

Hermione scowled, “I doubt it,” she said, but didn’t badger him any further.

 

“Where were you anyways?” Harry asked, “It’s four in the afternoon; school finished an hour ago.”

 

Hermione looked at Draco who merely shrugged, which didn’t seem to be the answer Hermione was hoping for as she took a deep breath and rolled her eyes, “we went back to the hotel.”

 

“Weasel still won’t let us back in,” Draco said, slightly sulky.

 

“Weasel?” Dexter asked, looking confused.

 

“Ronald Weasley,” Hermione answered, “A friend of mine and Harry’s...turns out he’s slightly homophobic-“

 

“Ha, slightly-” Harry muttered.

 

“Yes,” Hermione said, “slightly. He didn’t like the fact that Draco and Harry are seeing each other.”

 

Dexter’s eyes widened and Harry almost went to bang his head on the table, _fuck_. _He’d cheated on Draco_.

 

A massive tidal wave of guilt rushed over Harry and he was almost tempted to tell Draco then and there, in front of Hermione and Dexter. But he couldn’t; he was choking.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re homophobic as well,” Hermione said with a sigh, ignoring Harry’s obvious discomfort and turning to look at Dexter.

 

 _No it’s not that_ , Dexter thought to himself, _it’s probably just the fact that I kissed a sixteen year old boy who just so happens to be seeing somebody else...but I guess that isn’t a big issue at all..._

 

“No, definitely not,” Dexter said, “I’m just shocked; I didn’t know you were dating Harry.”

 

Draco shrugged, looking at Dexter with slight suspicion flashing through his gray eyes, “I didn’t really see how it was important.”

 

_Well, it’s important now_

“If it’s alright Dexter...” Hermione started, sounding hesitant, “could we stay here...for a while, until...you know?”

 

“We find a better place to stay,” Draco snapped slightly.

 

Dexter nodded, “that’s fine, but where are your parents?” he asked, the question had been plaguing him ever since they’d turned up at his apartment.

 

“Well...” Hermione turned towards Harry worriedly.

 

“Mine are dead, as you know,” Harry said.

 

“Well, if you haven’t been able to tell by our accents,” Hermione said slowly, “Draco, Harry and I, are all exchange students; we’re from England. That’s where our parents are.”

 

Dexter nodded slowly, “alright.”

 

Hermione looked confused, “is that...alright to my explanation or alright we can stay?”

 

“Both.”

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter that I literally just finished re-writing, so, enjoy! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the pairing :3

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 

Harry woke up the next morning, his head aching and feeling like it was going to burst. He looked around for a moment, forgetting where he was. Then slowly began to remember all the events, not necessarily in order. They made Harry shudder. How he wished he could just stay naive.

 

“Harry?”

 

Harry looked up and took his hand off of his forehead, that he hadn’t even realised he’d lifted to tentatively touch his scar. Dexter stood there, looking awkward, holding too mugs of coffee. He couldn’t hear any other footsteps or voices, so he assumed Hermione and Draco were out.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Harry felt his blood turn cold.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry sat in the lounge room, looking anywhere but at Dexter, holding a hot mug of coffee in his hands, which had turned weirdly cold. He didn’t want to think about it as Dexter came and sat down next to him on the couch with his own mug of coffee, looking a mix between unsure and angry.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about Draco?” he asked his voice tense. He looked awkward sitting there, like he wasn’t often in a situation like this, which, if Harry had any idea of what Dexter was like; he probably wasn’t often in a fucked up situation like this, at all.

 

Harry sighed; he couldn’t back out of this conversation. He knew it was going to happen eventually, he had just hoped he’d be able to avoid it for a while, “I didn’t think...” he looked at Dexter, deciding it was the only way to show that he was being completely honest, “I didn’t think this was going to happen...so I thought; I didn’t think it was important, I mean – I’d just been chucked out by someone who I thought was my best friend. I had other things on my mind at the time and I really didn’t think it was something important for you to know.”

 

Dexter nodded slowly, and then took a sip of his coffee as he waited for Harry to say more.

 

“Look; I can tell you’re mad.”

 

Dexter made a noise of amusement, causing Harry to get a little irritated.

 

“More than mad,” he said, annoyed, “extremely pissed off. But – if I knew this was going to happen, or anything of the sort, I would have told you about Draco. I had no intention to make you mad, or hurt you, or whatever you’re feeling.”

 

Dexter looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed, “I guess I overreacted, in a way,” he muttered, “I mean – this never should have happened, but you kissed me in emotional distress. I shouldn’t have taken it so seriously.”

 

 _Especially seeing as you’re supposed to be straight and feeling-less, you fucking moron_ , Dexter thought to himself.

 

“I meant it,” Harry said suddenly, looking down into his still full mug of coffee, which was slowly turning cold in his hands.

 

“Meant what?” Dexter asked, looking confused.

 

“That kiss,” he muttered, “I wasn’t being stupid, or reckless, or anything like that – and I wasn’t doing it because I wasn’t thinking straight or because I wasn’t in my right mind. I wanted it to happen – I did it because I _wanted_ to.”

 

Dexter looked stunned, “but...what about Draco?” he asked, his voice shaky. He wasn’t someone to be caught off guard, but this was definitely a moment where he was.

 

Harry shrugged, sighing and placing his head in his hands. Despite having only just woken up, he already looked tired. Like he’d spent the whole day doing heavy lifting; his body seemed dead, his eyes looked dead – everything dead and exhausted. Defeated. It was worse than when the boy simply looked confused.

 

“I don’t even know anymore,” he muttered quietly, “I have no idea what’s going on in this head of mine...”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Hello, my name is Special Agent Batista and this is Lieutenant Debra Morgan. I was wondering whether I could have a few minutes of your time,” Angel said, holding up his badge. Deb was behind him, staying stone faced, holding her badge up as well behind him. Mrs Ewan nodded sombrely and let Angel and Debra in without a word.

 

“You have a nice place Mrs Ewan,” Debra said randomly, looking around at all the family pictures on the beige wall, Clara was in the middle of them all, her father’s hand always on her left shoulder and her mother’s hand always on her right one. A stereotypical, middle class family.

 

She nodded, and led them towards the dining room. It was a large table that suggested they had family gatherings a lot, considering it appeared that Clara had been an only child. They were told to sit and offered beverages, Debra asked for water, Angel refused; he wanted to get this over and done with.

 

Mr Ewan came into the room, perfectly timed, and sat down next to his wife, grabbing her hand supportively.

 

After explaining what they were doing here, and what they needed to do, with consent from both parents, Mr Ewan sat up straighter and peered at the two detectives, “what do you need to ask?” he muttered, “I’m sure you’d understand if I said I wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.”

 

“Of course,” Deb said nodding sympathetically, she looked down at the case file they had built on, the pictures were at the very back of the folder; she’d made sure they were hidden for the parent’s sake, “I was wondering; at Clara’s high school, who was her favourite teacher?”

 

Angel peered sideways at her; this wasn’t a question on their list. She sat back nervously, folding her arms in front of her chest, hoping that Angel didn’t say anything and let the parents answer the question.

 

Mr Ewan, who seemed more than happy to answer questions while his wife sat in a state of silence, didn’t hesitate, “Mr Cooper-Henries of course,” he said, though he looked a little confused, “they got on like a house on fire.”

 

“How were you able to determine this?” Angel asked slowly, peering at Deb sideways again. Debra couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it seemed to be almost like slight approval.

 

“Well...” Mr Ewan cleared his throat, despite not needing to, “Stephen used to come over, a lot,” he said, “family friend,” he added, “used to help Clara with her studies.”

 

Angel nodded slowly, contemplating what question to ask next.

 

“Did Clara have any really close friends?” Angel decided to ask, tapping his fingers lightly on the dark brown table top, “like a best friend who she would tell everything to?”

 

Mr Ewan frowned, “are you insinuating there were things going on that my daughter didn’t tell me?”

 

Debra shook her head, “we’re not insinuating anything. But it’s always good to have multiple counts of opinions on a victim or even a suspect,” she said, “It’s all a part of the job – no insinuations sir.”

 

Angel almost sighed with relief.

 

Mr Ewan sighed instead and rubbed a sweaty palm over his even sweatier forehead, “I’m sorry – I’m a nervous sweater,” he mumbled, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his forehead with it, “and...there’s just been so much going on, and Clara just topped it...” he looked like he was on the verge of tears, before shaking his head and blinking a few times, he took a deep breath, “there was this one girl, Sarah Miller,” he put his handkerchief back in his pocket, “would you like her address?”

 

Debra leaned forward, trying not to appear too eager, “that would be very helpful, thank you.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

Debra knocked lightly on the front door, and waited patiently for the door to open. When it did, a girl in short shorts and a tank top opened the door, chewing her gum audibly.

 

“What do you want?” she asked, looking bored, her arms folded in front of her chest as she leaned against the doorway.

 

Debra showed her badge, “I’m Lieutenant Debra Morgan, and this is Special Agent Batista,” she said, pointing backwards with her thumb towards Angel who was once again showing his badge, “are you Sarah Miller?”

 

The girl nodded slowly, still chewing her gum. Debra wondered if she’d choke on it at some point during their conversation, “yeah,” she muttered her American accent thick, “what’s goin’ on?”

 

“We need to talk about your friend,” Angel said, “Clara Ewan.”

 

Sarah smirked, the gum chewing stopping immediately, “what about the whore?”

 

 _Maybe not as friendly as the parents originally thought_ , Angel thought to himself.

 

“Your ‘friends’ body turned up a few days ago,” Debra said, sounding a little frustrated, “I was wondering whether you could answer a few questions about it, so we can try and figure out who killed her.”

 

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted a little in shock, but that was the only sign of shock she showed, she sighed heavily and stood up from leaning against the doorway, “aight,” she said, “just hurry the fuck up, yeah? I have friends coming over, and they really don’t need to know I’m helping out the _feds_.”

 

She let them into the house, and Batista noticed that this house was comparatively less...classy when compared to the Ewan house. They were lead towards a breakfast bar which was full of empty beer cans and cigarette butts. It made Angel want to bathe in anti-bacterial wash for the rest of his life.

 

“So, did Clara tell you everything that was going on in her life?” Debra asked, sitting down cautiously on a bar stool after checking whether or not it was sticky with a spare tissue she’d found in her pocket.

 

Sarah snorted, “Yeah,” she nodded, “she was a stupid cunt wouldn’t stop talking about herself the fucking moron. I reckon; if it were allowed, she’d marry her fucking mirror as long as it was on her the whole time.”

 

“So...” Angel said slowly, “she was full of herself?” he asked.

 

Sarah snorted again, irritating Debra a little more, “oh yeah, she was the definition of ‘full of oneself,’ ya know?” she sighed, “stupid cow just loved to brag how she was so much better than everyone else. How her grades were higher, how she was incredibly wealthy – she had the looks and every boy in school wanted to ram their cocks down her throat...but...” Sarah bit her lip slightly, before sighing and continuing on, “if you were me, you’d know she was always into older guys.”

 

“How old are we talking here?” Angel asked.

 

“Bit late to get on the Clara train buddy,” Sarah said, cackling to herself, not noticing Angel’s look of disgust, “but, I’d say about mid-fifties. She liked the fact that they already had experience and that their lives were together already. She liked going after widows – claimed it was her way of ‘bringing them back to life.’ Bringing love and happiness back into their lives that only she could give them – like she was someone special,” Sarah laughed, “she was one sick puppy – but I didn’t do anything to stop her though.”

 

“Why not?” Debra asked; she was looking a little appalled herself at the teenager’s behaviour.

 

“It’s what floated her boat,” Sarah said with a shrug, clutching onto the bench with her hands, purposely exposing her cleavage to Angel, and giving the older man a wink. Angel ignored her. With a frown, she continued on, “if she’s into wrinkled asses,” she said, glaring at Angel, “and shrivelled up old cocks, that’s her problem,” she stopped glaring and looked at Debra, still leaning against the counter, “as for me, I got all the guys she refused to date; and I was fine with that – it was a good system, it’s how I got laid – especially as seeing before that, nobody paid attention to me, not even for a second.”

 

“So...” Debra frowned, “you were...neglected?”

 

“Eh,” she said with a shrug, “you look around – do you see any adults here?” she asked, “Though, I probably shouldn’t be admitting that to cops.”

 

“We’ll turn a blind eye and a deaf ear,” Debra said. Anything to keep this girl talking.

 

“Why are you living alone?” Angel asked.

 

“Because,” she went to the fridge and cracked open a can of beer. She gave Debra and Angel a look, asking if they wanted one. They both shook their heads. She shrugged and took a sip, “I dumped my pathetic parents and came to live with my mother’s on-and-off boy toy,” she took another sip, not seeming to care that she was drinking in front of two cops, and that she was underage, “he’s a good screw – glad he dumped my mother for me.”

 

Debra ignored this, “so why do you think Clara was into older men?”

 

“Daddy issues,” Sarah said, “it’s probably because her old man fucked her when she was younger. Came home drunk – and apparently that was the only thing he _came_ to,” Sarah cackled at her poor joke, “but once again – not my problem.”

 

Angel made a mental note to press charges against Mr Ewan later on.

 

“Do you know who Clara dated last? Before she died.”

 

“Yup,” she said, putting down her beer amongst the other empty beer cans, she lit up a cigarette and was polite enough to blow smoke away from Debra and Angel’s faces, “she was fucking Mr Stephen Cooper-Henries like she was some insatiable succubus.”

 

 _Bingo_ , Debra thought to herself.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Thank fuck you’re back,” Vince Masuoka said, rushing towards Debra and Angel who had just exited the elevator, “I’ve been waiting forever.”

 

“What happened?” Debra asked immediately, “What’s wrong?”

 

Masuoka laughed, “It’s not the case of what’s wrong – but what’s right!” he said excitedly, “Dexter went back and checked Clara Ewan’s body again, down in the morgue, and you won’t believe what he found.”

 

“What?” Angel asked.

 

“Fucking semen,” Masuoka said, “and it belongs to Stephen Cooper-Henries, the teacher at her school. They were gettin’ it _on_ ,” Masuoka said with a tiny pelvic thrust. Debra rolled her eyes in slight disgust, “and it was consensual, nothing shows that it was rape, and there were no drugs in her system. Maybe a little Viagra for Mr Cooper-Henries though; they were fucking like rabbits.”

 

Angel sighed, “this case seems to get more and more disgusting with every little bit of information we find.”

 

Masuoka smiled, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, “I know!” he exclaimed.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Just what we need,” Dexter said as all the lights turned off, “a fucking black out,” he muttered darkly. Using the light of his phone, he went towards his room, grabbing a box of matches and a bunch of candles left over from, what he liked to refer to as, the ‘Lila era,’ and brought them back into the lounge room to light them up.

 

“Does this happen often?” Harry asked once Dexter had come back and started setting up candles around the lounge room, lighting them up to bring some more light into the room. Hermione and Draco were in bed seeing as it was three in the morning. Harry seemed to have obtained a bout of insomnia ever since the incident.

 

Dexter shrugged, “it can at times – depending on the season,” he finished lighting all the candles and sat down next to Harry on the couch, “are you alright?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry answered, “why do you ask?”

 

“I just never seem to ask that question enough.”

 

Harry smiled, “well, I’m fine. I promise.”

 

“You’re not going to...” Dexter wondered what term to use, “you’re not going to freak out again, like with the blood slides – are you?” he asked.

 

“No,” Harry said softly, “I felt really bad about it the first time, because...they’re your trophies...” he shook his head, “I couldn’t do that to you again – I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Dexter muttered, “most rape victims...” he said slowly, trying not to upset Harry, “they normally have a few freak outs...it’s natural I guess...”

 

Harry bit his lip, “looks like I fall into stereotype I guess...”

 

“I’ll help you,” Dexter said, patting Harry awkwardly on the back, not knowing what else to do, “I’ll help you step away from that stereotype...if that’s what you want.”

 

Harry laughed; a small but genuine laugh and it made Dexter feel good. It made him feel like he was genuinely helping the boy.

 

“Dex...?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Harry’s face flushed a light red, barely noticeable with the way the candles flickered in the lounge room, “I want to kiss you again.”

 

Dexter froze, unsure of how to respond, so before he could think things through he muttered, “Then do it.”

 

Harry didn’t hesitate in leaning forward and capturing Dexter’s lips with his own. Dexter’s hand resting against Harry’s arm, rubbing it slightly as they kissed. Harry’s hand was on Dexter’s leg, doing the same thing. The feeling of being safe flooded through him once again.

 

Everything felt oddly romantic, but it wasn’t. It felt even more so, like exploring, which to Harry, was what it was. Exploring the possibilities.

 

So far; there were oh so many possibilities.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco groaned and slowly got out of bed, feeling the bones in his back crack slightly as he sat up and shifted over to the side of the bed. He had woken up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep; now he felt thirsty.

 

He began making his way around the two apartments, making sure not to wake anyone up, making his way to the kitchen in the dark. He was relieved when he saw a bit of light in the lounge room, so he began walking that way with a bit of ease.

 

He regretted it less than ten seconds later.

 

As he walked towards the entrance way to the lounge room, his mouth fell open as he watched the scene in front of him.

 

Harry, his boyfriend, the person he was pretty sure he loved, was kissing Dexter. Who had to be twenty something years older at the very least; they were kissing romantically, Harry’s arms wrapped around Dexter’s neck, one of his hands pulling at the older man’s hair. Dexter’s left hand sat on Harry’s hip, the other rested on the couch, their lips separating briefly while they kissed before returning to each other once more. It wasn’t just a simple kiss.

 

It was the way Draco kissed Harry.

 

He headed back towards his room silently, his brain trying to find some reason as to why this was happening, but he couldn’t come to any conclusion. How could Harry do this to him? Why would he do this to him?

 

Draco got back to his room, tears running slowly down his pale cheeks.

 

He felt like the world had just shattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE UPDATED 
> 
> SCHOOL HAS BEEN LITERAL HELL AND I RECENTLY TOOK ON A NEW WORK EXPERIENCE PLACEMENT WHICH MAKES ME WORK FROM 9-5.30 BUT I FINISH TOMORROW AFTERNOON - (thank god) AND TODAY I'M SICK AND KIND OF BORED SO I THOUGHT "HOLY SHIT I SHOULD WRITE FANFICTION" AND I WAS IN THE MOOD FOR SOME HEXTER SO HERE WE ARE - I AM SO SORRY!
> 
> I'm going to go and re-write chapter seven right now for you x please read, review, all of that jazz :)

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Draco felt pathetic doing it, but he faked a groan of pain when Dexter went to wake him up that morning.

 

“Are you alright, Draco?” he asked, looking concerned.

 

Draco shook his head pathetically, shoving his face back into his pillow, “nah...I feel sick,” he grumbled, trying to sound as tired and unwell as he possibly could.

 

Dexter sighed, “well...I have work today...do you think you’ll be okay home alone?” he asked, “Harry’s trying school again today.”

 

Draco nodded slowly, feeling a rush of pride for Harry, before remembering what he’d seen last night. The rush of pride burnt out real quick and was replaced with a fiery anger. He could have gotten up right now, faked his sick act, and punched Dexter right in his handsome face that Harry seemed to like so much.

 

“Okay,” he heard Dexter say, he heard footsteps make their way out of the room, “get well soon!”

 

He groaned back in response.

 

He waited for the noise of the front door shutting quietly before smirking, getting up and cracking his knuckles and back.

 

Today was the day he planned on finding out a lot more about Dexter Morgan.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“What about Draco?” Harry asked, putting his school bag over his shoulder. Harry had decided to be brave and attempt going to school again. Something about a project that he really needed to do. Dexter had simply nodded; he wasn’t going to stop Harry. It was up to him when it came to what he did.

 

“He’s not feeling well,” Dexter answered, getting into the car where Hermione was already waiting, studying her book for English in the backseat of the car, “do you think you’re going to be able to handle all of the bullying if it starts up again?” he asked as Harry got into the front seat.

 

Harry nodded, “I’ve been bullied for years – I just didn’t expect people to be so cruel about...what happened,” he said, not really wanting to say what it really was. Hermione looked up from her book in the backseat, giving Harry a small concerned look behind his back before returning back to the text on her lap.

 

“People are heartless,” he muttered, starting the car up and pulling out of his parking space.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Harry, come on otherwise we’re going to be late!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Dexter as Hermione hurried off to her first class.

 

“You’re going to be okay,” Dexter said, “I’m sure of it.”

 

“If you say so,” Harry said, biting his lip. He’d thought the same before, but now that he was outside of the school gates; he wasn’t too sure.

 

“I need to go to work,” Dexter said, “so, you either have to stay here or I can quickly drop you back off at my apartment.”

 

Harry sighed, “I’ll stay here,” he said. He didn’t want to back out now, “I’ll see you later,” he said, before taking off in the direction Hermione had gone. Dexter watched with a small amused smile, driving out of the school’s car park and making his way towards Miami Metro.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco started off by looking around Dexter’s room. Looking under his bed, looking through his drawers and his wardrobe. He found a massive black chest and attempted to open it, but it was locked.

 

Draco smirked, pulling out his wand, “not a problem,” he muttered darkly to himself, “Alohomora.”

 

He heard a little click, confirming that the chest was now unlocked. He flipped the lid open with ease and peered inside. He grabbed out a bag, more like a holder, and opened it slowly.

 

He dropped it on the bed with a small gasp. Knives cluttered onto the bed, thankfully none of the sharp edges impaling the bed. He took a few steps back, biting his lip nervously.

 

Maybe there was a little more to Dexter Morgan than he had originally thought.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Dexter!” Debra burst into the lab, looking awfully happy, “thanks to you, we know for sure that Stephen Cooper-Henries was the one who murdered Clara Ewan. Not to mention _multiple_ other people,” Debra said, almost looking like she was about to throw a party.

 

“And...?” Dexter asked, waiting for whatever else she had to say. She seemed to excitement for that to be the only thing on her mind.

 

“And, the fuckers dead!” Debra said, “we found his body this morning; looks like he’s been murdered. I’m normally not happy with any type of murder but...he fucking deserved it, big time,” she muttered, seeming to be worried that Dexter would judge her over her excitement about someone’s murder.

 

Dexter resisted the temptation to smirk; he had decided last minute not to throw Stephen Cooper-Henries body into the ocean, like the rest of his other victims. Thought it better to leave him in a dumpster near the man’s home.

 

“That’s good,” Dexter said with a small smile, trying not to sound too cheerful about it, but not be the downer of the little party Debra had thrown herself, “so...case closed, right?” he asked.

 

“Normally, I would think about trying to find the guy who murdered Stephen,” she said slowly, “I don’t think he deserves it, but, I might give it a small look into,” she muttered, “I don’t want people to think Miami Metro Homicide is corrupt,” she sighed, “but whoever killed him did teenage girls and boys – future victims – a massive favour, in fact, I’d probably give the killer some flowers.”

 

Dexter rolled his eyes, at times like this he really had to admire Debra’s dark sense of humour.

 

“But I’m not going to put too much effort into this murder case,” Debra said with a sigh, “there seems to be no evidence on him anyway – so, not like we can do much more.”

 

“Case closed?” Dexter asked.

 

“Before it’d even begun,” Debra said with a small smile, “I’ll talk to you later; I have a press conference I need to go to,” she muttered angrily, “they’re making me wear a skirt Dex – the type of ones that give me fucking wedgies.”

 

“Too much information Deb,” Dexter said, rolling his eyes.

 

Debra rolled hers back, “what good are you?” she said sarcastically, “I’ll see you around Dex,” she muttered, leaving the lab and closing the door behind her.

 

Dexter took a deep breath, feeling relieved that the case was closed.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco continued to stare at the numerous shiny objects on the bed. He didn’t want to touch them, but how the hell else was he going to be able to get them all into the holder again?

 

“There could be multiple reasons for having these,” Draco told himself, trying to remain calm, “he could be...a hunter for all I know...”

 

He looked back down into the chest and shook his head slowly, “not very often hunters have scalpels and surgical saws...”

 

Draco pulled at his collar and tried fanning his face a little – it was a getting a little too stuffy in the apartment for his liking. He packed the multiple scalpels and knives back away hastily, while also trying to make sure they were all in the same slots as before – the last thing that he wanted was for Dexter to know that he had gone through his personal belongings. He walked outside of the room and moved straight over towards the AC unit. He could feel that it was already on, but it wasn’t high enough. He fiddled around with the little knobs and buttons, but still felt as if it wasn’t cooling the place down.

 

It bothered Draco – air conditioners were one of the things he had learned about in muggle studies, and it had locked exactly like this one so he knew how to use it.

 

He banged his fist angrily against the AC and heard a large bang, which startled him.

 

“Crap,” he muttered, pulling off the front of the AC and looking inside, “what the fuck-?”

 

Draco reached inside and pulled out a brown box. Feeling curious, Draco opened the lid and pulled out a part of the contents. Holding the thin pieces of glass between his thumb and forefinger, he felt his eyes widen as he came to terms with what he was seeing.

 

It was a box full of little glass slides, two slides stuck together in each little compartment, held together by a circle of dried reddish-brown.

 

Draco could tell what it was automatically, he wasn’t stupid. It was blood.

 

“Knives...scalpels...and a surgical saw...” Draco listed, his hand shaking, his face pale, “and...blood slides kept in an air conditioner...” he put the box down before he dropped them, “to keep them cool...Dex...Dexter...” he grabbed the box and hastily put the slide back in before putting the box back and covering the AC once more.

 

He was actually starting to feel sick now, nauseated; he moved to the couch and sat down. His head was throbbing and his hands were still shaking slightly in his lap, he sighed, “Dexter’s a serial killer.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Everyone was sitting in the lounge room; take out in front of them. Draco was wrapped in a blanket, still feeling sick from earlier, this time his acting more convincing considering he was genuinely sick. Hermione leaned forward a little from her spot and looked at Dexter.

 

“I feel so bad that we keep staying here,” Hermione said, “I mean...surely we’re stopping you from....going out with friends or something?” she said, her face turning a little red. If Draco hadn’t felt like crap, he would have laughed at what the girl was insinuating.

 

Dexter shook his head, however, “no, all I’ve got in my life at the moment is my work and my son, who will be coming home tomorrow from Orlando.”

 

Hermione sat up at this, looking excited. Harry rolled his eyes and Draco didn’t say a word, “so we finally get to meet the famous Harrison,” she said, smiling, “how old is he?”

 

“Two,” Dexter answered, putting his box of noodles onto the coffee table, “he’s going through his terrible two’s stage, so if he’s a little unbearable I understand – and apologize.”

 

Hermione shook her head, “I’m sure he’s lovely – you’re just overreacting.”

 

Draco had to pay it to Hermione for always saying what’s on her mind.

 

Dexter simply shrugged.

 

As Hermione, Harry and Dexter discussed things - occasionally eating some of the food they had gotten, Draco sat in his own chair and was deep in thought, keeping quiet to himself, still shaking slightly in his blanket. He had to get Dexter alone. He had to talk to him, about everything he had discovered earlier that day.

 

But...the question was how the hell was he going to get Dexter Morgan alone?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've finished this chapter and the next chapter so if you're all super lovely and review and stuff I am more than willing to post the next update. I kind of want to know who is still reading this fanfiction.

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

Dexter was sitting at his desk, staring at the lit up screen of his laptop, scrolling through internet post after internet post, page after page. He heard the sound of someone’s throat clearing and looked into the lounge room, where Harry was now sitting – where he hadn’t been before, and looking through the Clara Ewan case files.

 

“Do you think the reason that he carved ‘ _until death, we meet again_ ’ into Clara’s back is because he knew that he would be caught in the act at last and he was going to commit suicide when the hunt for him began?”

 

Dexter frowned slightly, “you really shouldn’t be looking through those files,” Dexter muttered darkly, closing his laptop, standing up and making his way over to Harry, who continued to read the files anyway.

 

“I just...” Harry sighed and leaned back onto the couch. Dexter sat down next to him, closing the folders and stacking them neatly, “I feel like I’m the one that’s meant to figure this out,” Harry finished lamely.

 

“The case is closed,” Dexter said, “there’s nothing else to figure out – but if there is that is up to me and the rest of Miami Metro to figure out,” he paused for a moment, waiting for Harry to say something, but he didn’t. He simply continued to gaze at the folders piled up on the coffee table, “you should go to bed,” Dexter said.

 

Harry’s head snapped up, “why?” he asked, “tomorrow’s Saturday.”

 

Dexter sighed, rolled his eyes and then whispered, “I’ve got a kill lined up tonight and I won’t be home until later.”

 

Harry looked surprised, “who?” he asked, “I haven’t seen you looking up anyone in particular lately.”

 

Dexter shook his head, “I’m not telling you, but I should be home in a few hours time,” he said, “so, go to bed.”

 

Harry still seemed a little bugged about it, but he nodded his head in agreement either way.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

_He’s a serial killer...and Harry knows it..._

Draco had been standing in the dark hallway for the last fifteen minutes, listening to the conversation unravel in low voices. He couldn’t help but feel shocked – maybe even more than shocked. He would never have thought Harry would date someone – _cheat_ on him with someone like Dexter. Harry had spent the last few years of his life trying to run away from a megalomaniac wizard – and yet Harry was completely okay with dating a muggle serial killer.

 

Draco moved forward to the end of the hallway and looked around the door frame and looked into the kitchen area. Dexter and Harry were standing in the doorway, talking in hushed voices, before Harry stood on his tip-toes and kissed Dexter passionately.  Draco sighed quietly – it broke his heart if he was honest with himself. It made him feel alone.

 

Dexter broke the kiss and smiled before walking out the front door, whispering a quick goodbye to his ‘secret’ lover before closing the door. Harry turned towards the kitchen. Draco heard the sound of a tap turning on, then not long after being shut off again. Harry headed into Dexter’s room shortly after, holding a glass of water. Obviously Harry had decided to listen; he may as well lie down until Dexter got back.

 

Draco crept forward, closer to the door and peered into Dexter’s room. Harry was taking his shirt off and getting into bed. So before Harry could notice him standing there and ask what he was doing, he opened the front door and walked out into the cold night, hoping that Harry hadn’t heard the door open and close again.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco had been waiting by the pool of Dexter’s apartment for nearly two hours now and was about ready to start walking back to the apartment, thinking that if Dexter hadn’t returned within the last two hours then he probably wouldn’t be home for a very long time – when Dexter’s car pulled up.

 

Dexter got out of the car and locked it behind him, as he turned around his eyes widened when he saw Draco standing there, looking at him with puffy, swollen, eyes. A jacket wrapped around him tightly in his efforts to block out the cold.

 

“I know what you are,” Draco said, his teeth chattering from the cold and from the amount of crying he had done – making his attempt at shocking Dexter sound weak, “I know that Harry knows too and I even know about you and Harry being... _together_ ,” he said the last word with a hint of disgust.

 

Dexter didn’t say anything; he did however look a little worried. Draco didn’t know whether it was because he was worried about Draco’s wellbeing, which he doubted, or because he was worried he might tell someone important about Dexter’s extracurricular activities.

 

“I’m not going to tell anyone – about anything it that’s what you’re worried about,” Draco assured him, “I won’t tell Miami Metro that you’re this... _homicidal freak_...that you’re a serial killer,” he said, a little louder than he had originally meant to. Despite his wishes, Draco’s voice continued to get louder, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re involved with a fifteen year old. That your relationship with Harry is illegal!” Draco bit his lip and cursed himself mentally – he sure hoped nobody was listening.

 

Dexter didn’t say a word.

 

“Say something!” Draco screamed at him, finally having enough of Dexter’s silence, “say something!” he begged.

 

Dexter sighed and let out a small, confused shrug, “why?” he asked.

 

Draco felt just as confused as Dexter looked, “why what?”

 

“Why aren’t you going to tell anyone?”

 

Draco hadn’t really thought about that, but despite the fact that he felt abused, betrayed, by this whole scenario, he had had malicious thoughts such as telling Miami Metro about Dexter. He couldn’t bring himself to. Draco sighed and walked closer to Dexter, who didn’t move a muscle when Draco was standing right in front of him.

 

“Because...” Draco tried to gather his thoughts up properly – he didn’t want to screw up what he was about to say in case he gave Dexter the wrong message, “I know...I know Harry would be better off with you,” Draco said, “I’m... _nobody_ ,” he said with a sigh and a little shrug, mist surrounding his breath and making it look like he was exhaling cigarette smoke, “you...you _can_ protect him...unlike me – for half of his life I made it a living hell...until one night we got drunk after playing Truth or Dare and we ended up making out...” he shook his head, wondering why he was telling Dexter this, “either way – he only really sees me as a one night stand now that got attached. He...he sees you as a _lover_ \- someone who can protect him...from his past, from his future...and from what’s happening to him in his mind right now.”

 

Dexter continued to stand there, which infuriated Draco to no end. He was currently pouring his heart out to the man and he just stood there, silently, looking slowly more and more worried about everything Draco was saying.

 

“Look,” Draco said, sounding irritated, “ _you are more than me_ , _”_ he said, even though it pained him to do so, “I’m in love with Harry,” he realised for a second that he had never actually told Harry that before, “but I know for a fact that he’ll never see me that way...because...we’re always going to have the past come between us. All you have with Harry is what you have now – and I envy you for it. I’m jealous. Because you can date him, guilt free – and all I think about everyday is how I used to p-pick on him. How I bullied him day in and d-day out; and how I still expect him to l-love me after all of t-that.”

 

Draco stopped rambling and began to realise that he was crying and some of the words in his little rant, he had stuttered. Choking back on sobs as hot tears ran down his face, he said, “p-promise me, ­ _promise me_ you’ll...you’ll treat him _well_ ,” he started wiping his face repetitively, but the tears refused to stop flowing, “you won’t just _dump_ him...and...don’t let anyone kill him...kill them first before they kill him,” Draco realised saying that probably made him sound insane, but he was sure Dexter would understand that wish at a later date.

 

“Draco-.”

 

“Do it,” Draco demanded, the stutter gone, “or me breaking up with Harry now, just so he’ll have someone who he loves, who can protect him properly...” he shook his head, “it’ll all be for nothing.”

 

Dexter sighed, shaking his head, “Draco,” he said, finally beginning to talk, “you can’t do that to him.”

 

 

“The thing you don’t realise,” Draco began to say, trying to sound as stuck up as he possibly could, “is that I can do whatever I want. I’m a Malfoy and I do as I please – and what I want right now is for Harry to be safe and I know... _I know for a fact that if he’s with you, then he will be_.”

 

Dexter sighed and closed his eyes, as if Draco’s ranting was giving him a headache. Draco didn’t know whether to be offended or not at Dexter’s lack of sympathy - lack of understanding. The fact that the man didn’t really seem to give a damn how much this was paining Draco to say – especially seeing as it had just happened all of a sudden. He had given no thought to this conversation earlier.

 

“Take care of him for me,” Draco said, swallowing all of his frustrations down and burying them deep inside him, “please.”

 

Dexter stood there, looking like he was having some sort of inner turmoil. Draco wondered whether Dexter was about to tell him that he couldn’t end it with Harry, that he didn’t want to hurt Harry and Draco’s relationship – Draco didn’t know what he was going to do if Dexter did say those things. Would he push about the issue or would he just nod, go inside, and cuddle up next to Harry in Dexter’s bed?

 

But all Dexter did was simply nod.

 

Draco felt a small twang of disappointment, but he didn’t want to back out now, “I’m going to go for a walk, I’ll be back sometime later this morning...maybe at six...but...I need some time to think,” Draco said, “because I know with you and Harry being so... _lovey-dovey_...I can’t stay here. I won’t be able to handle it.”

 

Draco began to walk past Dexter, who reached out and went to grab Draco’s shoulder, but Draco dodged it and continued to walk away, “sleep tight,” was all Draco said, walking backwards, his hands in the pockets of his jacket before turning and walking away.

 

Then he was gone.

 

Dexter stood there for several minutes, stunned about what had just occurred. It was an odd experience for him. He had never really been that guy – well, he had come close to it with Rita and Lila – but Lila and Rita had never really been connected. Definitely not the same way Harry and Draco were.

 

He was about to start walking, head back into his apartment and go to sleep on the couch for the night – feeling it would be wrong to go straight to his bed with Harry, especially after that situation.

 

But then he heard a gunshot.

 

The blood in his veins seemed to freeze; making his body go cold and his heart temporarily stop beating. His eyes widened, and before Dexter could even think about what he was doing – he began to run.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I said I was going to upload this on Thursday but then shit came up and I got distracted and spent the rest of the night watching Breaking Bad. BUT - I am no longer doing work experience so now I have more time for writing! I have almost finished re-writing this fanfiction, but I'm thinking of adding an extra chapter to it, I don't know yet. But here is chapter eight :)

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Harry jumped out of bed, the book he had been reading earlier falling from his grip and landing with a thud on the carpet. The sound of the gun shot, mixed with the uneasy feeling coursing through him, made him realise there was something very wrong.

 

Not thinking, he grabbed one of Dexter’s jackets from his wardrobe and put it on over his naked torso, before grabbing his wand and running out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and out the front door. He swore earlier he had heard Dexter pull up and someone shouting and then the gun shot...what if...Harry shook his head, he couldn’t afford to think like that right now.

 

As he made his way down into the street, he heard someone talking urgently, “can I please get an ambulance!” they said the address and he kept telling the person to hurry. Harry ran in the direction and recognised the back of Dexter’s head. Harry felt relief wash over him – thank Merlin he was okay. He rushed over – but when Harry finally reached Dexter, he stopped short, there...on the ground.

 

“Draco!” Harry shouted, pushing Dexter to the side and crouching down besides Draco’s unmoving body, “Draco,” Harry held onto Draco’s shoulders, his lifeless body flopping awkwardly as Harry began to sob, “wake up,” he began poking at Draco’s body lightly, like he had done many times before when trying to wake the blonde up, “for fucks sake Draco this- this is not a day to be sleeping in,” his mind seemed to fly back to those moments, of Draco asking for another five minutes before turning over and beginning to snore lightly again, “wake _up_ Malfoy!” he screamed, “wake up Draco you _fucking_ idiot! You _stupid_ ferret face! WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

 

Dexter watched, mesmerized and unsure of what to do while Harry did everything in his willpower to get Draco to wake up. At one point, Harry even grabbed a funny looking stick from the pocket of, what Dexter knew, was his jacket and began prodding the blonde’s body, saying funny words while doing so.

 

“Enervate! Come on Draco! Wake up! Stop fucking around with me you _prick!_ Wake. Up!” Harry was sobbing hysterically now, blood from Draco’s bullet wound seeping onto Harry’s hands, “we should never have come here...we should...we should never have listened to Dumbledore...we should have told him to get _fucked_...why the hell did I - _we_ listen? We could have avoided this!”

 

Harry began muttering more funny words, but nothing seemed to meet the teen’s approval for he threw the stick away, frustrated.

 

“Please...just wake up...I’ll do anything,” Harry said dejectedly, tears still running down his face, he sounded tired. Dexter watched as Harry looked back at him, and then at Draco. Harry made the worst sobbing noise in his throat as he said, “just wake up...”

 

Harry turned back to Dexter and looked at him, his eyes were red and puffy and his face soaked with tears. He rubbed his face with his bloodied hands, leaving blood all over his face. He laughed, “I think he’s dead,” then began sobbing uncontrollably again, shaking all over. Dexter dragged Harry to him and hugged him tightly, Harry head instantly buried into his shoulder - seeming to fit in there perfectly, in Dexter’s arms. He screamed until his throat was sore.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry had been crying most of the night, but he had finally fallen asleep in Dexter’s arms, both were lying in bed, covered in blankets.

 

 _A child is dead_.

 

Dexter had nothing to do with it. Yet he felt as if it were his fault. If Dexter hadn’t begun...doing God knows what with Harry - then Draco wouldn’t have felt the need to tell Dexter he was fine with it and then he wouldn’t have gone off for that walk.

 

Draco would never have gotten killed.

 

Dexter normally didn’t feel guilty about these types of things – they seemed stupid, trivial...but this was different. This was hurting Harry. So it hurt him. He hadn’t cried like Harry had – but he had felt a certain amount of loss that he couldn’t even attempt to hide from Harry, who had seen the look in his eyes and had started sobbing even more. He was asleep now, from exhaustion, but he was sure Harry wouldn’t be ‘magically cured’ in the morning.

 

The ambulance had taken forever to arrive and by then Draco had already bled out, onto the concrete, from a bullet wound in his neck. He knew it would be hard for Harry to ever get rid of that mental image of the boy he was sure Harry had loved, bleeding out, dying, already dead, on the pavement in a cold night in Miami.

 

 _A child is dead_.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry went out the next morning to grab his wand from the bushes he had thrown them into, it was a nice sunny day and yet he felt cold. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

 

When Harry returned to Dexter’s apartment, wand in hand, he sat on the couch moodily, staring at the ceiling, playing with his wand and moving it in and out, between his fingers.

 

“What is with you and that stick?”

 

Harry looked up, Dexter was looking at him from the door way to Harrison’s side of the apartment – he looked worried.

 

Harry sighed, “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, looking around Dexter to see if Hermione was following him. He was hoping she wouldn’t be awake while he told Dexter this, “sit.”

 

Dexter looked puzzled, but did as he was told with no argument.

 

“I...I lied,” Harry said, heaving in a deep breath, “I am not an exchange student from England. I’m an exchange student from Scotland – but I do live in England during the holidays.”

 

Dexter frowned.

 

Harry shook his head, “right...not important,” he muttered, shifting himself in his seat in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, “well...the school is a boarding school...it’s not just any normal school however...”

 

“Go on,” Dexter said, noticing that Harry was beginning to trail off.

 

Harry sighed and pointed his wand at one of the pictures on Dexter’s computer desk – one of Dexter himself and his sister, Deb - which he had only met a few times before, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

 

Dexter turned to look at where and what ‘the stick’ was pointing at and starred at the floating picture of him and Deb, just hovering a few inches above his desk, in awe.

 

“Uh...” Dexter looked a little pale, “how are you doing that?” he asked, shakily.

 

Harry sighed, placing the picture down carefully and breaking the spell, “uh...magic...” he said lamely, “I’m a wizard.”

 

All Dexter could say was, “wow.”

 

In any other circumstance, Harry was certain that Dexter would have called him crazy, or that he was a liar or a silly little boy. But, the evidence was there. Dexter’s job was to literally look for evidence in things that were either possible or could barely be comprehended. Still, Harry could feel himself physically shaking from fear, waiting for Dexter to freak out, or to ignore what just happened and call him a liar, or overimaginative.

 

He tried to ignore these feelings however, “so...you don’t hate me for not telling you?” Harry asked.

 

“No,” Dexter said. He looked lost, “no, I understand why you didn’t tell me...I’m guessing it’s against the rules of being a...” he swallowed harshly, “a wizard,” he finished stupidly.

 

Harry nodded, trying to make Dexter feel less idiotic, “exactly.”

 

Dexter frowned, “how...how do we not know that wizards exist?” he asked.

 

Harry smiled softly and began explaining slowly about the wizarding world and all it had to offer and rules that went with it, slowly feeling more comfortable and less childish, talking about such a thing. He could slowly feel the biggest weight he had ever felt fading away off of his chest.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

 

Hermione was finally awake – this was the longest she had slept in since moving to Miami for the muggle studies project.  Harry sighed, “Something happened last night.”

 

Hermione’s worried look intensified, “what happened?” she asked, sounding a little panicky while at the same time trying to sound gentle and supportive.  She sat down beside him on the couch, waiting for Harry to start explaining.

 

Harry didn’t know how to say it to her. He wasn’t worried about hurting Hermione, Harry knew Hermione still didn’t like Draco, but he knew if he said it, he was going to break down. He was going to cry. He still felt tired from all the crying he did last night. He didn’t think he could admit what had happened last night to himself again.

 

“Draco...” Harry took a deep breath, tears forming in his eyes, “he’s dead...Draco’s dead.”

 

Harry felt like the announcement wasn’t big enough- that even the sentence itself sounded so lamely final. He turned to look at Hermione. She looked shocked, and surprisingly, her eyes began to get watery.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked, tears slowly falling down her face. They were silent, dignified, in comparison to Harry’s last night.

 

Harry scoffed and shook his head, “no...I’m not...but...I’ve lost people before – I’m just going to have to get used to him not being around anymore, like I did everyone else.”

 

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to that.

 

“And...I...I told Dexter about us...”

 

Hermione frowned, “about us?” she asked, looking confused.

 

Harry laughed at the slight insinuation, “about...I told him that we were...yeah...” Harry shook his head, “I told him about the wizarding world and what we are, okay?”

 

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, giving Harry a stern look, “Harry, the first rule about this trip was-.”

 

“To not tell anyone,” Harry cut her off, “I know,” he snapped, “I just...Hermione...” he sighed, he was admitting to a lot of things today, “there’s something I really need to tell you. And you’re going to hate me for it, but-.”

 

“You cheated on Draco with Dexter,” she said a matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened, shocked. He felt the blood drain from his face, “how did you...?”

 

 

“How did I know?” Hermione asked, a small smile on her face, “I know these things Harry – you and Dexter got along...too well for people who had just met each other.”

 

Harry wanted to explain to Hermione that Dexter had also saved Harry from being murdered by Stephen Cooper-Henries, but he knew questions would be asked that both Harry and Dexter wouldn’t like to be answered.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I guess I did make it a little too obvious...” he said, but all he could think about was the fact that, if Hermione had known, she hadn’t stopped him.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry had needed to go outside; he wanted to relieve some of the stress that was slowly, but surely, building up, heavy enough to crush him and eating him up from inside and out.

 

So, now he was floating in the pool near Dexter’s apartment. His eyes closed against the sun in the sky.

 

**_I wonder...if anyone would care if I just...put my head underwater right now and never swam back up..._ **

 

Harry sighed, and just for the hell of it, was about to dip his head underwater when...

 

_Splash_

 

Harry sat up, his legs hitting the bottom of the pool, his arms splashing upwards in shock. He looked up to see Dexter swimming over to him. Harry smiled as his head came above water and Dexter shoved some of his hair out of his eyes.

 

“Boo,” he said playfully.

 

Harry shook his head fondly, “wow, fancy meeting you here,” Harry said sarcastically, sitting up on the edge of the pool.

 

 

Dexter rolled his eyes before his face turned serious again, “how do you feel?” he asked, sounding a little worried.

 

Harry shrugged, “a little powerless to be honest...” he sighed, “Hermione got me wondering whether...Draco knew about you and I.”

 

Dexter frowned, his eyes screaming panic, “and she does?” he asked, his voice going up an octave.

 

Harry laughed a little, “she figured it out,” Harry assured him, “she considered the fact that, for people who had just met, we shouldn’t get along so well.”

 

Dexter nodded, “smart bitch that witch.”

 

Harry laughed, “Funny – I bet you’ve been saving that line up ever since I told you.”

 

Dexter nodded with a small smile.

 

Harry looked at Dexter for moment, remembering the panic in the man’s eyes from before as his legs kicked softly in the water, trying to keep Harry’s body afloat, “he knew about us; didn’t he...” he said – it wasn’t a question.

 

Dexter didn’t say a word; confirming it once and for all. Tears began forming in Harry’s eyes and he breathed in slowly, “he died...and I didn’t even get the chance to apologise to him...”

 

Dexter face was full of mixed emotions, none of them Harry could place, “I’m sorry-.”

 

Harry shook his head and cut him off, “it’s not your fault.”

 

“It is,” Dexter said, “I continued this...after the first kiss...I could have left the room or just ignored the fact that you kissed me. But no – I kissed you back.”

 

Harry looked down at his exposed hand and looked at the scars there, from the night where he broke Dexter’s blood slide. His trophy of Stephen Cooper-Henries.

 

“Look,” Dexter began to say, “If you ever want to end this-.”

 

“No!” Harry exclaimed, “I’m going to feel bad that he knew about us before he died either way – but I can’t end this...I don’t want to...I can’t lose you too.”

 

Dexter looked into Harry’s eyes, which were full of unshed tears. Dexter just wanted to hold the boy’s body against his give Harry some form of comfort and get comfort from that fact. He leaned forward and kissed Harry softly, Harry’s lips responded instantly, Dexter slowly lifted Harry from the side of the pool and dragged him towards the middle, all the while kissing him passionately. Harry opened his mouth wider and Dexter followed, feeling Harry’s tongue tentatively touch his. One of Dexter’s hands moved slowly to the small of Harry’s back and Harry’s hands found themselves buried in Dexter’s hair. Harry admitted a small moan as Dexter nibbled on his lower lip.

 

“What the _actual_ fuck!?”

 

Dexter and Harry broke away from each other instantly, both looking up, in shock, at who was standing near the edge of the pool.

 

“Explain,” Debra said, “now.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Dexter! This is fucking _illegal_!”

 

“So...” Dexter shrugged, tempted to tell Debra this wasn’t the first illegal thing he had ever done, “don’t tell anyone,” he said, noticing how much he sounded like a child as he said it.

 

“He’s fucking fifteen years old Dex!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening, giving her a mad look in her eyes, “what would his _parents_ think!”

 

Dexter heard the sound of a throat clearing from the lounge room, “don’t have any!” Harry shouted.

 

Debra frowned and walked towards the lounge room, Dexter following her.

 

“What do you mean you don’t have any?” Debra asked, still sounding irritated.

 

Harry shrugged, “they were murdered when I was one. They’re dead.”

 

Debra shook her head and poked at Dexter’s chest.

 

“I see where this is going,” she said, “you and him-.”

 

“I have a name you know!” Harry glared at Debra, who sighed and looked back at Dexter, “you and Harry,” she continued, “have this... ** _connection_** , because your mother was murdered and his parents were murdered.”

 

Dexter sighed, “That isn’t it-.”

 

“That better not be,” Debra said, “not only will I fucking kick you in the head so hard, but it won’t help in court when you get charged for rape and paedophilia!”

 

“We haven’t even had sex!” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Dexter will still be charged with paedophilia.”

 

“Why?” Dexter asked, giving Debra an intense look, “are you going to tell someone?”

 

Debra paused for a second, turning back towards Dexter and glaring at him, before sighing, “don’t get fucking caught,” she said, “if you do; I didn’t know any of this – understand?”

 

Dexter nodded. She turned to look at Harry and he nodded his silent agreement as well.

 

“Now,” Debra said, “I have a question if I can get a fucking answer without getting my head ripped off.”

 

“Shoot,” Dexter said. Heading back towards the kitchen to make coffee for Debra and himself. Harry pitched in his order for coffee as well.

 

“Since when did you like men?” she asked, “I thought you were straight.”

 

Dexter shrugged, pouring the coffee out of the jug, “bisexual I guess.”

 

Debra looked astonished, “ _you guess_?!”

 

“Harry is the first guy I’ve dated,” Dexter explained.

 

Debra sighed, “Well, so much for dropping by to see Harrison...instead I see you making out with a different Harry,” she smirked, “how much longer until Harrison arrives?”

 

“In an hour,” Dexter said, “Jamie got a little caught in traffic on her way here from the airport.”

 

Debra walked down and sat down on the couch next to Harry, who was afraid to look at her for too long in case she bit his head off, “well...it looks like you get to have the pleasure of entertaining me for an hour.”

 

Dexter mockingly groaned while making his way over to her and Harry with their coffee – but secretly he was just glad the awkward conversation about himself and Harry was over.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyye I'm an asshole :')

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

“We’re home!” Jamie announced, opening the door, carrying bags and Harrison who was smiling, looking around the apartment.

 

“Daddy!” Harrison cried out, trying to pry himself from Jamie’s arms. Jamie put him on the ground and he rushed over to Dexter, who laughed and picked him up, holding the little boy close to him and kissing the top of his head, “hey buddy,” he walked towards Jamie and relieved her of her burden of the bags as well and placed them in the kitchen, “how was Orlando?” he asked his son.

 

“He seemed happy to see his Grandparents,” Jamie said, setting her car keys on the bench, “Astor and Cody say hi.”

 

Jamie looked around and spotted Harry and Hermione sitting on the couch, Hermione reading through a text book and Harry looking over her shoulder - trying to both look nonchalant about the new arrival.

 

“So, you two must be Harry and Hermione,” Jamie said smiling and walking towards them. Hermione stood up, urging Harry to do the same with a gesture behind her back.

 

“Yeah,” Hermione said with a smile, “I’m Hermione Granger,” she said, holding out her hand. Jamie looked sceptical then shook Hermione’s hand, “I can definitely tell you’re British,” she said, “you don’t see many girls introducing themselves with handshakes – unless you’re Deb,” she said, looking around, as if expecting to see the woman behind her.

 

“She’s in the bathroom,” Hermione told her with a small smile, “but that explains why people keep looking at me weirdly...”

 

Jamie nodded and turned to look at Harry, “and you must be Harry,” she said.

 

Harry nodded.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Jamie said, “how long have you guys been in Miami?” she asked.

 

“It’s nearly our second month,” Hermione said, “we go back in three weeks.”

 

The heard a bang in the kitchen and everyone turned around to see Dexter had dropped one of the bags that he was carrying off to Harrison’s room. His eyes were wide, “so, you go back to your school in three weeks?” he asked, sounding a little shaken.

 

Hermione nodded, “then we stay at our school for the next few weeks and then...well...holidays,” she said with a small nonchalant shrug. Harry looked at Dexter and could tell this had everything to do with him.

 

 

(Dexter POV)

 

 

When Jamie leaves to go see her brother Angel, I get to sit and deal with my own thoughts for a while. I watch as Harry and Hermione play with Harrison, realising they would both be good parents one day. Harry looks up at me and smiles and I sigh and realise once again that he’s old enough to be my own son.

 

I’m just as bad as Stephen Cooper-Henries. The only difference is that I haven’t raped or murdered Harry and everything is consensual. But is it really? What if Harry is just intimidated by me and is too scared to say, ‘no, I don’t want to,’?

 

I would be more devastated than I care to admit.

 

Even though I’m pretty sure what we have is a relationship – I am so confused by what this is and whether or not I’m going to feel sad when Harry goes back home in three weeks. Why can’t things, like relationships, be simpler to understand?

 

As I watch Harry, there seems to be a stir of emotion in his eye, and then I remember why Harry was here, not meaning the project, but why he was staying at my apartment.

 

I had someone to visit.

 

 

 

(Third person)

 

 

“Who are you?” Ron Weasley asked upon opening the door to his hotel room. In front of him stood a man who had to be in his forties.

 

“Dexter Morgan,” he said, “and you’re Ronald Weasley.”

 

Ron nodded slowly, “yeah,” he said nervously, swinging his arms at his side forward and back, “what do you want?” he asked, not unkindly.

 

“I need to talk to you about your friend Harry Potter,” Dexter said, leaning on the open door to make sure Ron didn’t slam it in his face, “it’s important.”

 

Ron frowned at the name, but nodded either way and let Dexter in.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry walked out of the bathroom and looked around expectantly, “Dexter?”

 

“He went out,” Hermione said from the couch, “said he had to go to work because some...Vince guy found something out about Clara. Deb’s in Harrison’s room playing with Harrison before he goes down for his nap.”

 

Harry frowned, “right...” Harry could only assume that Dexter had gone out to kill someone, so he sat down on the couch with Hermione and began to play the waiting game.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“What about him?” Ron asked, sounding odd, “what about Harry?”

 

“Why did you chuck him out?” Dexter asked, sitting down on one of the couches in the hotel room. It was extravagant, so he assumed that the principle of their boarding school was paying for the place, “what did he ever do to you?”

 

“It’s not what he did to me,” Ron said, “if you think he did something to me then you’ve heard the wrong version of the story.”

 

“Then what happened?” Dexter asked, “Why did you chuck them out?”

 

“Also something you’ve misheard,” Ron said, “they left all by themselves – I didn’t chuck them out.”

 

Dexter looked confused.

 

“They walked out all by themselves,” Ron said with a small shrug.

 

“Why exactly did they walk out then?” Dexter asked. This conversation was dragging on for hours – this kid sure was annoying. _Kid...he’s Harry’s age...possibly older_ , Dexter wanted to punch himself in the face, _hey...not your fault Harry acts way more mature than this...kid_.

 

_Kid_

 

Ron looked angry, “I found out Harry was gay and well...being gay is a sin so I started getting angry and nobody liked it or agreed with me so they all left after I told them to fuck off.”

 

Dexter scrunched up his face in confusion and annoyance, “how is being gay a sin?”

 

Ron shrugged, “my mum always told me and my brothers that being gay or lesbian or even bisexual is a sin – and I’m no sinner.”

 

Dexter didn’t ask anything else. He couldn’t be bothered hearing it. It was idiotic. He couldn’t believe wizards read the Bible, let alone misinterpreted it in such a way. He thought wizards, if anything, would mock the Bible more than some other regular people do.

 

“So, how do you think Harry felt?” Dexter asked, standing up, towering over Ron, “when his best friend decided that liking another man, was wrong. That he couldn’t do it because, he being in love with another man was a sin. That you thought it was sick and wrong and he shouldn’t be allowed.”

 

Ron didn’t say anything.

 

“You’re his best friend,” Dexter said, “you’re meant to support him no matter what!”

 

Ron began to look angry again, “you have no idea how many times I have supported him!” exclaimed Ron, standing, almost the same height as Dexter, “every one of those times – risking my life!”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard about everything,” Dexter said darkly, “about your first year of Hogwarts, your second year, I know! So if you could risk your life to save his; why would you dump him now just because of his sexuality? Do you not know what else happened to him?!”

 

Ron frowned, “what else happened to him? All I heard was that he had been dating that ferret face secretly for three months.”

 

Dexter glared at him, hoping that Harry wouldn’t kick his ass later for telling Ron this, “your best friend was raped,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

Ron looked shocked, “no...”

 

“Yes,” Dexter said. He made his way towards the door, he was done with the red head, “and you dropped him on his ass when he needed you the most,” Dexter walked out and slammed the door behind him, rushing down the stairs angrily and into the car park.

 

When he located his car and sat in it, he tried to calm himself down. He screamed his frustrations and slammed his palms on the steering wheel. He needed to be near Harry. He wanted to calm down and Harry was the only way he could right now.

 

 

(***)

 

 

The next day, Harry decided that he was ready to go back to school.

 

“People are soon going to thinking that you’re my father and not my boyfriend,” Harry said, joking as he stood by the car window, his school bag hanging off his back. Dexter smiled a bit at the confirmation that he was Harry’s _boyfriend_.

 

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Dexter said with a smirk, “As you know, our relationship is illegal.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “isn’t stopping me from wanting to kiss the fuck out of you right now.”

 

Dexter laughed, “Go on - get to class. I’ll see you later.”

 

Harry smiled and followed Hermione to the gates of the school.

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Oi, Potter!”

 

Harry swallowed loudly and turned around. He was in English and Victor had just called out to him. Despite saying he was ready to return to school – Harry had been nervous all morning. His stomach in knots for most of it – he hadn’t been able to eat his breakfast. His little bits of flirting with Dexter and kissing him earlier on in the morning had made him feel slightly better – but now being thrown back into the school environment, where it seemed like everyone was out to hurt him, he had started feeling nervous and gross again.

 

“Who’s the man that dropped you off?” he asked, smirking, “your father?”

 

Harry didn’t answer and turned around to face the front again, the teacher had left the classroom to get some books.

 

“You look nothing like him,” Victor said, his cronies snickering beside him, “were you adopted?” he asked.

 

 

Harry didn’t answer and that’s when the jeering happened.

 

“Your parents didn’t want you!” another boy shouted, his voice echoing, “So they adopted you out to that man!”

 

“Can see why they didn’t want you,” another boy said, other students laughing almost drowning his comment out.

 

“Specky looking faggot!”

 

Harry stood up, seeing red and turned to face the boys who were laughing hysterically.

 

“He’s not my dad!” Harry shouted, the boys still laughing, “He’s my boyfriend!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am with another chapter, because I love you guys, you're pretty grrreeeaaattttttt maaattttteee *holy shit I'm such an Australian bogan*
> 
> DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS TO WRITE, BY THE WAY, WHEN YOU'RE AUSTRALIAN AND BOTH MAIN CHARACTERS ARE BRITISH AND AMERICAN? IT IS HARD AF *like Dexter's diccckkk aaayyeee*
> 
> ...if you can tell, I totally use a ghostwriter for my fanfictions because there is no way in hell I could write so seriously >.>

Bad Romance

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

 

“Mr Morgan, sit.”

 

Dexter looked confused as he was asked to sit down. He almost felt like he was a student in trouble as he sat down, surrounded by a bunch of school teachers, some of them taught Harry in his subjects – others knew him by face of by name.

 

“Mr Morgan,” the principal began to speak, looking professional, “I have to ask you a few questions.”

 

“Like?” he asked, sounding a little irritated, which probably wasn’t helping him at the moment.

 

“This afternoon a teacher came back to her classroom to overhear one of her students shouting that you were his boyfriend.”

 

Dexter kept his face clear, but he could feel his heart racing, pounding harshly in his chest. He was almost certain that he would have a heart attack.

 

“I can guess that you know which student we are speaking of?” she asked.

 

 

“Harry Potter,” Dexter answered, “of course.”

 

The principal cleared her throat and clasped her hands together on the table top, “you have to understand Mr Morgan, that; if this is true, it is very much illegal and must be reported to the authorities.”

 

Dexter shook his head, _they really need to do a background check on who they’re talking to sometime._

“Look,” Dexter sighed, “I cannot stress enough that Harry isn’t exactly the...sanest boy...at your school.”

 

“What do you mean?” the English teacher who had overheard Harry in his class asked.

 

“The kid has had an extremely hard life,” Dexter began, “and well...after having a life like his you kind of...crack under pressure.”

 

“Under pressure of _what_ Mr Morgan?” the English teacher asked, “under pressure to keep yours and Mr Potter’s relationship a _secret_?”

 

“No!” Dexter exclaimed, feigning disgust, “you’re not following me here.”

 

“I’m not following you at all!” the principal declared, “who would want to be in a relationship with a fifteen year old boy at your age Mr Morgan?”

 

Dexter snapped, “I don’t know, maybe Mr Cooper-Henries, your old _science teacher_. You know – the one who raped multiple students _including_ Harry?” he glared at them all, “definitely not me, you know - a forensic scientist for Miami Metro – you know someone who works with _‘the authorities_ ’.”

 

Every one of the teachers and the principal were stony faced and quiet.

 

“I’m not dating Harry,” Dexter said, “I would never risk my position in my department for a relationship. The boy has a crush on me, okay? And he’s never once acted on it. And...I guess now he’s seeing things; maybe he’s dreaming that we’re dating and his dream has mixed in with his reality,” he shrugged, “but either way, we’re not together – we’re not dating.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” the principal said, “have you any evidence to support your claim?”

 

“You can ask my sister, Debra Morgan, the lieutenant at Miami Metro homicide about my position in the forensics department,” Dexter said casually, “and when considering Harry he had a boyfriend not too long ago,” he mentioned, “he unfortunately got shot down in the street – but he had a boyfriend whom he loved a lot. Do you really think he’s mentally prepared for another relationship so soon?”

 

A teacher from the science department, Alice Hartville, frowned, “what was his name?” she asked.

 

“Draco Malfoy – he came to this school. I also have an eye witness of the relationship between Harry and Draco,” Dexter said, smirking.

 

Harry’s history teacher cleared their throat, “and who would that be?” they asked.

 

“That would be me.”

 

Everyone in the room turned to see Hermione walked in, looking just as professional as the principal. Minus the unflattering school uniform, “I am eye witness of the relationship between my friend and his late boyfriend shared. Nothing else has occurred since then. Harry is very...reluctant, to date again.”

 

“And, how can we prove that Harry was not cheating on young Draco with Mr Morgan over here?” the English teacher piped up, earning a nod of approval from the principal.

 

 _English teachers really have a thing for dramatics_ , Dexter thought to himself.

 

 

“Because,” Hermione said, “one of Harry’s many personality traits is the fact that he is fiercely loyal unless provoked into tasteless actions,” Hermione said, “and he wouldn’t give up his reputation for being a loyal friend just so he could date two people. Besides,” she sucked in a deep breath, “I have liked Harry for a while and before all of this I had a boyfriend. As soon as my relationship with my boyfriend was over, I asked Harry if he would like to date me. Harry, he’s been waiting for me to be single forever – but as soon as I offered, he said no and explained that he had been secretly dating Draco for three months. And even though that was a very short time, he could never cheat on him – if you knew Harry well at all, you would know that instead of making presumptions about him and his ways. He couldn’t just dump Draco for anyone else either. I know my best friend. He would never have wanted anyone else to get hurt all because of him,” Hermione looked down at Dexter, “and I know my uncle well enough that he would never do anything to hurt my friend, such as pursuing a relationship with him that is illegal.”

 

Dexter was shocked at the teenagers lie and how it was said without any lack of sincereness. He had to compliment Hermione later about throwing in the Uncle bit as well.

 

_I must really watch my back with her around._

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“So, what, I’m fucking _insane_ now?!” Harry shouted at Dexter, “I heard it! I heard the whole fucking conversation!”

 

Dexter sighed. They were back in his apartment – Hermione had shut herself in her room to study and he and Harry were currently standing in his room arguing. Well – Harry was arguing. He was standing there trying to remain calm for Harry’s sake.

 

“I was lying...I don’t think you’re insane.”

 

 _Probably a little insane considering you’re dating me,_ Dexter thought to himself, but he never would have said that out loud.

 

“You do!” Harry said, “You said it so matter-of-factly! No one just comes out with that, from the top of their heads and says it so _perfectly_!”

 

“Harry I-.”

 

“I don’t want to hear it!” Harry said before storming off into the kitchen. From there, Dexter could hear Harry say, “I’m leaving in three weeks, I don’t give a shit anymore!”

 

Dexter sighed and sat down on his bed, seeming to collapse from the inside.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

A week later Harry was still somewhat annoyed with Dexter, but not as much as he had previously been. They had gone back to sharing passionate kisses, which Hermione walked in on several times, with a roll of her eyes. That, however, didn’t stop the depressing fact that Harry and Hermione would be leaving to go back to Hogwarts in two weeks. It kept dawning on Dexter that now would be a good time to just break it off with Harry, but he couldn’t.

 

“Hey Dexter,” Hermione said as she walked inside the apartment, walking past Dexter in the kitchen and walking straight into the room she had been staying in, “where’s Harry?”

 

“My bedroom – why?” he asked, surrounding suspicious.

 

Hermione shook her head and made her way to Dexter’s bedroom, “no reason,” she said before opening the door and closing it behind her without another word.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Do you ever knock?” Harry asked, putting on his shirt and throwing the dirty one into the hamper near the wardrobe.

 

“Why has Ron forgiven us?” Hermione asked, sounding alarmed.

 

Harry straightened up, turning back to Hermione and rubbed his eyes, “what?” he asked.

 

Hermione sighed, sitting down at the end of Dexter’s bed, “Ron has forgiven us and wants us to move back into the hotel room...I don’t know why...he...called me and told me he’d forgiven us and that he was sorry for being so...”

 

Harry smirked, “for being so much of an asshole homophobe about it?” he asked.

 

“Harry!”

 

“Sorry,” Harry shrugged, “but we know for a fact that it’s true,” Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and put them on, “so. Why is this important exactly?” he asked.

 

Hermione bit her lip, “well...do you want to move back in?” Hermione asked.

 

Harry paused for a moment and then frowned, “no way!” he exclaimed, “I don’t want to go back – he can apologise all he wants but I know what he’s like.”

 

Hermione sighed and looked at Harry for a moment before saying, “why do I have a feeling there’s another reason for not going back Harry?”

 

Harry bit his lip, he’d been thinking this over for a while and didn’t know whether he wanted to let Hermione know of his thoughts – but now was as good a time as any. He took a deep breath before saying, “I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts Hermione...I’m happy with Dexter and I don’t care if I have to pretend to be a muffle for the rest of my life just to be here with him. I think I love him,” he frowned, “and I’m still getting over Draco,” tears began to form in his eyes as he remembered Draco’s lifeless body outside on the street, the blood everywhere, over his hands, on his face, how he had trembled and cried and screamed into the night, “and I believe that if I go to Hogwarts, I’m only going to get reminded of Draco and I think Dexter will be a distraction from thinking about him.”

 

Hermione nodded as Harry continued to rant, showing that she understood and that she wasn’t going to add her opinion until the very end.

 

“And that makes it sound like I’m using Dexter, but he makes me happy...happier than I’ve felt for a while and I feel as...if I go back to Hogwarts, more horrible things are going to happen that I can’t control. Like Draco dying...so many times I wish this had never started between me and Dexter, but it’s too late now because Draco’s gone. So why not just stay here...I won’t have to think about him...and I get to be with Dexter, who I think I definitely love...”

 

Hermione shifted slightly on the bed so there was room for Harry to sit, the boy got the message and sat down – Hermione hugged him tightly, hoping it would help him, “fine...we’re not going back to the hotel. But despite everything, the wizarding world is counting on you to save them all from Voldemort; the one’s that believe he is at large again anyway.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “exactly. The one’s that _believe_ he’s at large. Yet everyone else thinks I’m a complete nutter. So why not stay here where nobody knows who I am and what my past is? Life would be a million times simpler than what it is in the wizarding world.”

 

Hermione snorted, “You can’t just dump the wizarding world, Harry.”

 

“Yes I can,” Harry lay back on the bed and buried his face into the pillows. They smelled like Dexter, “I quit magic!”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “we’re going back to Hogwarts whether you like it or not.”

 

Harry looked up at her and stared, Hermione just smirked, “look – yes, life is getting harder by the day. But you can’t just give up. Make it better for yourself, but at least...finish your education first.”

 

Harry glared at her, but under Hermione’s gaze, he just nodded and didn’t argue any further. She smiled approvingly and walked out of the room, “I’m glad we had this talk,” she said before closing the door behind her.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Are you looking forward to going back?”

 

Harry looked up and looked at the man sitting across from him, he shrugged tensely, “in a sense...yes...but, I’m also going to miss being here.”

 

Dexter smirked cockily, “miss being here or miss me?” he asked.

 

Harry smiled, “maybe just a _little bit_ of both.”

 

Harry sighed and pushed the container of Chinese food away. Hermione was in her room, doing homework, eating dinner in there.

 

“I’m actually going to miss you a lot,” Harry said, “and another reason I can’t bring myself to leave is due to the fact that...Draco...he died here.”

 

Dexter nodded, “how are you feeling about that?” he asked, “you realize you can talk to me...about _anything_ – that includes Draco.”

 

“I know,” Harry said with a small nod, his hands clasped together, tightly in his lap, “it’s just hard.”

 

“Fair enough...”

 

An awkward silence followed in which Dexter finished his food and walked over to Harry’s side of the table. Harry held out his hand and Dexter grabbed it, helping Harry up off the ground he had insisted on sitting on for some odd reason, “for the record,” he said, “I’ll miss you too.”

 

Harry smiled without saying a word and kissed Dexter softly, wrapping his arms around Dexter’s neck as Dexter’s mouth moved lower and began nibbling on the flesh between Harry’s neck and shoulder.

 

“Oh...Dexter!” Harry moaned, his hands tugging on Dexter’s hair as he ground his hips into Dexter’s. Dexter could feel Harry’s erection pressed against his own as he pulled Harry’s body closer to his.

 

That’s when Dexter woke up.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry woke up that morning covered in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face and a sob caught in his throat. He sat up and wiped his eyes, but more tears seemed to follow. He wrapped his arms around himself, and tried to tell himself everything was okay. But it wasn’t. Draco was dead. Draco was...

 

He shook his head. He’d received a letter not too long ago from Dumbledore – it had been hard trying to hide an owl from Dexter, but he hadn’t exactly failed in the attempt in doing so – stating that he would be bringing the Malfoy’s with him and taking the body from the morgue. Harry had been asked the identify the body, to make sure it really was Draco, which didn’t make much sense to him because there was no way anyone in Miami could have been mistaken for the pale blonde with grey eyes. But instead, Hermione had gone.

 

Flashbacks of Draco’s cold body formed in his mind again. He took a shuddering breath and began to cry again. He was done. Miami was a horrible place, interesting yet horrible. There were rapists, murderers, people _died_ for no reason. At least in the wizarding world there was an excuse – war. But this was different. People did it for _fun_.

 

He thought straight to Dexter but shook his head, _no_ , Dexter was different. He only killed bad people, like rapists and murderers who killed for the sake of entertainment. He refused to think of Dexter as anything like those other people. Not like Stephen Cooper-Henries or the person who had killed Draco.

 

There was a small tentative knock on the doorframe and Harry looked up. Dexter was standing there, looking worried and unsure of himself.

 

“There’s...someone at the door for you,” Dexter said, “said they’re from your school...”

 

Harry got up slowly, he was certain it was Dumbledore, and he wasn’t ready to face anyone from the wizarding world, but he got up anyway and made his way to the front door of Dexter’s apartment. But he needn’t have bothered. Sitting in the lounge room with a cup of tea sitting in front of him was Dumbledore, smiling gravely at him. He inwardly groaned; he was not looking forward to this conversation.

 

Harry was so focused on the fact that he knew a dreadful conversation was about to come up, he didn’t even notice Dumbledore’s well done attempt at muggle clothing. Though, the long hair and long beard remained – but the man seemed to dress somewhat like a hippie.

 

“Harry, Harry, Harry...” Dumbledore said, motioning for Harry to sit down with him, “how are you my boy?”

 

Dexter stood in the kitchen, looking wary of the old man. Harry just shook his head at Dex, ‘ _don’t worry_ ,’ he mouthed at him. Dexter went back into his room and closed the door behind him.

 

Harry sat down and gave Dumbledore a questioning look, “why are you here?” he asked, “You didn’t say you were coming to visit.”

 

Dumbledore gave him another small smile that was really starting to get on Harry’s nerves, “I had to check on you – I was sure you would be affected by young Draco Malfoy’s death.”

 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t imagine why,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “we hated each other.”

 

There was that goddamn twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye, “oh, but we both know that’s not quite true.”

 

Harry felt like throwing up. He stood up angrily and faced Dumbledore, turning both of his hands into fists, “if you know so much,” Harry said, “then why didn’t you prevent this, huh? Why did you come here, and tell me you knew everything, why bother coming and talking to me when you already know everything – why didn’t you just appear and save Draco? Huh?” he snapped, “because I would have preferred it if you had jumped in the way and been hit with the bullet rather than bloody Draco!”

 

As soon as he had begun saying it, Harry had regretted it, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He began to cry again, wrapping his arms around himself. He tried to stop himself from crying, but it was all too much. He gathered the sleeve of his shirt in a balled up fist and began wiping at his eyes angrily. Dumbledore stood up and wrapped his arms around Harry, trying to quiet him, but Harry pushed away.

 

“No!” he said, backing away and almost tripping over one of Harrison’s toys, “no, just...just stay away from me!”

 

He rushed off to Dexter’s room without much thought, and ran into Dexter in the process. Dexter immediately looked alarmed, and tried to pull Harry in for a hug but Harry pushed him away too.

 

“I can’t,” he said, “I fucking can’t.”

 

He looked around; there was no other way to go other than back out there with Dumbledore. So he stormed towards the closet.

 

“Uh...” Dexter looked confused, “what are you doing?” he asked.

 

Harry shrugged and turned around, backing into the closet, “losing my fucking mind,” he said, slamming the door of it angrily. From inside, all Dexter could hear was sobbing, angry, heartbreaking, sobs. He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Five hours later, Harry walked into the kitchen, went straight up to Dexter and hugged the man. Dexter could instantly tell the boy was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, physically- the boy was more broken than Dexter had ever been. Dexter slowly wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed the top of his head.

 

“Are you feeling any better?” Dexter asked.

 

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head, “but I snapped and I’m sorry.”

 

Dexter nodded. He didn’t want to pry for any more information or anything. He just brought Harry back to the lounge room and sat him down.

 

“What do you?” Dexter asked, causing Harry to look up in confused shock for a moment, thinking that Dexter had asked it aggressively, “tea, coffee, food?” Harry shook his head to all three.

 

“I think I just need...” Harry shook his head, “I don’t know...”

 

Dexter waited.

 

“I want to feel loved.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“They’re holding a funeral at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. Harry nodded moodily, mixing his cereal around and around in his bowl until it resembled nothing more than wheat coloured mush.

 

“Dumbledore...suggested we go home early,” Hermione said, “but I told him we couldn’t.”

 

“Why?” Harry asked, looking up at Hermione. Hermione’s eyes widened and she stuttered a bit, “I-I I assumed that...with Dexter and all you’d...you’d want to stay,” she said, “for a little bit longer.”

 

Harry nodded and went back to his cereal.

 

“The ministry worker who was meant to be supervising our trip has been fired,” Hermione said, eating a bit of her own cereal.

 

Harry frowned, “there was a ministry worker supervising us?” he asked.

 

Hermione smiled, “exactly what I said,” she scoffed, “turns out, while they were supposed to be doing their job, they thought it would be an excellent time to go and venture Miami’s gay bars, while still getting paid for their work hours,” she rolled her eyes, “he didn’t think that the Harry Potter down on the paperwork was _the_ Harry Potter.”

 

Harry cocked up his brow, “and just how many Harry Potter’s _are_ there in the wizarding world?” he asked with a small smirk.

 

Hermione shrugged, “obviously millions if he can get confused like that,” she said sarcastically, “because he seems like a very intelligent man.”

 

“Can’t be too smart,” Dexter said from the kitchen, “the gay clubs here are terrible.”

 

Hermione cocked a brow, “and as a recently discovered bisexual, you would know this how?” she asked.

 

Dexter simply winked, causing Hermione to roll her eyes, “that explains where you’ve been disappearing to then,” she said, once again sarcastically.

 

Harry chuckled.

 

This, the morning after his explosion, this felt good. But he still wasn’t okay.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smutty bits at the bottom just an FYI

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 _I’m not sure whether I’m ready_ , Harry thought to himself as he grabbed a towel and walked out of the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist and a flicking a bit of hair out of his face in the process, _I feel ready. But it feels wrong to be ready – like I shouldn’t be ready. I shouldn’t be ready..._

“Harry, come on!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and quickly got dressed before meeting Hermione in the kitchen, “what?” he asked, sounding alarmed.

 

Hermione looked at him quizzically, “we’re going to be late.”

 

Harry shrugged, “I don’t want to go.”

 

Hermione looked shocked; she placed her empty tea cup on the bench and grabbed her school bag from the floor, “out of all the times you could have said you didn’t want to go, you choose _today_ \- the _second last day_ of school.”

 

“What is the point of going it it’s the second last day of school?” Harry asked.

 

“This,” Hermione sighed, “it’s all about what happened in English, isn’t it.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

“Yes,” Harry said, “I’m sick of getting bullied. So, I’m not going. I’d rather just stay here.”

 

“Fine,” Hermione snapped, putting her school bag on the ground, “but I’m staying here with you.”

 

“No!” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed back, walking towards her room, dragging her school bag behind her, Harry followed her, “I don’t trust you here alone,” she slammed her bag down on the bed, “I’m sorry...but...I don’t.”

 

“Dexter’s not going to leave us both here alone,” Harry said in a quick attempt to make Hermione leave.

 

Hermione smirked, “let’s check that.”

 

“No, Hermione-.”

 

Hermione began walking towards Dexter’s bedroom, upon reach it she pushed open the door, “Dexter!”

 

Dexter, who had been asleep at that point, woke up with a start, “what Hermione?” he asked, sounding a little peeved.

 

“Harry and I are staying home,” she said, looking back at Harry with an innocent smile. Harry glared back at her.

 

Dexter shrugged and curled in on himself, “good for you – so am I.”

 

Hermione beamed, “even better!”

 

Harry groaned.

 

“Shut up Harry,” Hermione said, closing the door again and walking back to her room to take off her uniform.

 

“You know what?” Harry said as Hermione walked into her room, “I think coming to Miami gave you an attitude problem.”

 

Hermione poked her tongue out before closing the door in Harry’s face.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Harry, wake up!”

 

Harry opened his eyes slowly, Dexter coming into focus as he entered his line of view.

 

“You fell asleep,” he said sheepishly.

 

Harry shrugged and sat up, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to get some of the extra blur out of them, “sorry.”

 

Dexter smiled, “its fine,” he said, pushing Harry over to the side slowly and sitting down beside him. Harry crawled closer to him and kissed him.

 

Dexter broke away from the kiss with a sigh, “you leave next week,” he muttered dejectedly.

 

Harry nodded and began kissing Dexter’s neck, causing Dexter to moan aloud. Though he attempted to stifle it by biting his lip, “I know,” Harry said, sounding wide awake.

 

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, Harry and Dexter both looked around to see Hermione, standing there awkwardly.

 

“Uhh...” Hermione’s face went all red.

 

“Sorry,” Dexter muttered. Harry blushed deeply, turning a darker shade of red than Hermione and moved towards the other side of the couch.

 

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Hermione looked embarrassed still, despite her face returning back to its normal hue, “I was...actually going to ask whether I could go over to the hotel Ron is staying at. I needed to ask him something.”

 

Dexter nodded slowly, “I would prefer it if you didn’t do it at this time of night.”

 

“I’d apparate there,” Hermione said. Harry frowned, but that wasn’t legal at their age.

 

“What’s apparate mean?” Dexter asked. Harry hadn’t been able to fill Dexter in on _everything_. There was just too much to tell him. Harry cleared his throat, “it’s a way wizards travel. You’re literally in one place one moment and in another place a second later.”

 

Dexter frowned worriedly, “and that’s _safe_?”

 

“Completely,” Hermione said, “if you know what you’re going – and I’m completely capable. I promise. I’ll be back here in an hour.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Dexter let me out,” Hermione said, walking through the hotel room door, “he’s been worried about me and Harry ever since Draco’s death...so he’s protective.”

 

Hermione had admittedly lied to Dexter about the apparation, and she was sure Harry knew that. She had taken a cab – but she had needed to get out of the apartment and talk to Ron, it was important.

 

“Fair enough,” Ron said, “still doesn’t completely explain why you’re here.”

 

Hermione sighed and sat down on one side of the couches without being told to do so, “I have every right to be here and you know it,” she said, “I have been paying the bill despite the fact that I’m not even staying here, all because I, unlike you, I’m actually a good friend. So you can’t ask me what I’m doing here when I have more of a right to be here than you do.”

 

Ron nodded and sat down opposite of Hermione sheepishly, “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

 

“Its fine,” Hermione said, “well...no. It isn’t. But it just felt like the right thing to say.”

 

Ron gave a small, humoured smile, “alright, now...really. Why are you here?”

 

“Well,” Hermione sighed, “I wanted to give Harry and Dexter more privacy and I wanted to know how you are. Despite everything that happened that night and the fact that I should probably hate you for it – I miss you.”

 

Ron’s smile was bigger when she said this, but his facial expression soon turned into one of confusion, “why would Harry and Dexter need privacy?”

 

Hermione frowned, “didn’t Dexter tell you?”

 

“You knew Dexter came to visit me?”

 

Hermione nodded, “and he didn’t tell you that he and Harry are dating?”

 

Ron’s eyes widened to resemble saucers, “well...that’s...okay.”

 

“It’s more than okay,” Hermione said, “he saved Harry so it’s kind of rational that they be together. I’m happy for them.”

 

“Hm...”

 

“Look,” Hermione snapped suddenly, “I know you don’t like the prospect of Harry being gay.”

 

“No. I don’t,” Ron said.

 

“But,” Hermione thought for a moment, thinking what words would be the best to say to Ron. What would make Ron feel bad for being so narrow minded?

 

“What?” Ron asked, waiting for one of Hermione’s famous tirades.

 

“But you have to realise this is a part of who Harry is,” Hermione said, “His sexuality isn’t some illness or something he can change. This sticks with Harry forever. How do you think he feels that you can’t accept that he loves a certain gender? He loves his own gender. You probably wanted him to marry Ginny. Become a part of your family...but he already is. Your mother; Molly – she already considers Harry to be her son and I know she’s the one who taught you that being gay is a sin, but, I believe she wouldn’t be too narrow minded about it because it’s Harry. Harry is still...well...Harry.”

 

“But-“

 

“But nothing,” Hermione cut him off, “he was in love with Draco...to be honest, I had a feeling that something...similar to this was going to happen to the both of them in third year. But...well...it didn’t. How do you think he felt when you said it was wrong for him to love the only person he had _ever_ loved like that?”

 

Ron shrugged, “I...dunno...”

 

“Hurt,” Hermione answered, “hurt is the word you’re looking for Ron.”

 

Ron looked down at his feet.

 

“And now Draco’s dead,” Hermione said, “the person he loved the most in the world...is dead...he got shot; murdered. Harry didn’t see it, but he heard the gun shot. He heard it happen. He saw Draco’s body - cried over him in front of Dexter and everything. How do you think it would feel to lose the person you love like that?”

 

“I would want to die,” Ron said instantly, without hesitation or thought.

 

“Exactly”

 

Ron looked up, alarmed, “he didn’t try to kill himself, did he?! Is that why you’re here?! To tell me he’s killed himself?!”

 

Hermione shook her head, “no. Dexter’s been helping him keep calm and slowly - but surely, get over it.”

 

“Well...maybe there is something I like about this Dexter guy after all,” Ron snored, “still not happy about them being together...guy is like forty or something?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “if he’s making Harry happy, I don’t care how old he is,” Hermione said, “as long as he doesn’t hurt Harry.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry was sitting down in the lounge room, staring moodily at the wall.

 

“Are you okay?” Dexter asked, walking towards Harry and sitting down on the couch beside him.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, picking at the couch cushion anxiously, “I guess I’m just sinking too deep into my thoughts.”

 

Dexter moved closer and hugged Harry. It was like just after Harry had admitted to being raped to Miami Metro, minus the ice cream...

 

“You can talk to me you know,” Dexter said, “no matter what it is, you can always talk to me.”

 

Harry nodded and kissed Dexter on the cheek, “I know, and thank you for that. Lately...you’ve kind of been a hero around here,” Harry laughed slightly at his lame compliment, “for once - it doesn’t have to be me.”

 

Dexter smiled, “well sometimes even the hero needs to step aside and take a break from saving the day sometimes.”

 

“I’m not used to the vacation,” Harry said, shaking his head slightly, “not one bit.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Dexter smirked, “you’ll be back to being the hero in a week’s time.”

 

Harry frowned, “yeah...that’s a little unsettling.”

 

Dexter smiled sadly and hugged Harry tighter.

 

“You’re going to miss me, right?” Harry asked, “I’m not...I’m not going to be...forgotten...right?”

 

Dexter hesitated for a moment.

 

_I won’t necessarily miss him...but...he’d never be forgotten...but...what if I do miss him? I’ve been saying for the past week that he’ll be going back to Scotland. If I could have a choice, I would want him to stay here, live with me, meet Astor and Cody..._

“I will miss you,” Dexter finally said, “and there is no way I’ll ever forget you.”

 

Harry smiled softly before leaning forward and capturing Dexter’s lips with his own. Their tongues twisted around together. Dexter picked Harry up from the couch and Harry’s legs instinctively wrapped themselves around Dexter’s waist. Dexter carried Harry into his bedroom, continuing to kiss Harry as Harry unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed Dexter’s exposed flesh on his chest.

 

Dexter sat Harry softly down onto the bed and broke the kiss, causing Harry to groan in protest; Dexter chuckled and slowly began undoing Harry’s trousers, causing the boy to gasp.

 

“Are you okay?” Dexter asked, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

 

Harry nodded. He wanted to. He didn’t know how Dexter had known he had wanted to. But there must have been some unspoken plea in his eyes earlier that day that suggested that he wanted to do this.

 

_That I’m ready..._

“I can do this,” Harry said, “I’m...I’m ready.”

 

Dexter kissed Harry softly, passionately. So many words, _promises_ were said between their connected lips, promises that Dexter would be gentle. That Harry wouldn’t be scared. That this wouldn’t be the last they’d see of each other.

 

Before Harry could even contemplate what had happened; he was moaning into Dexter’s mouth, feeling his member get tugged on ferociously, all bad memories vanished instantly, replaced by only the pleasure he felt now.

 

Harry moaned again, Dexter making a humming noise in his throat at the sound of Harry’s pleasure, “you like this?” he asked.

 

Harry nodded, it felt so good.

 

Dexter smirked, “and I’m only giving you a hand job...”

 

Harry laughed before another moan was torn out of him, feeling himself cum all over Dexter’s hand.

 

Dexter smiled and kissed Harry softly before whispering, “I’m not going to hurt you...I’m going to drive all those nightmares away...”

 


	12. (optional chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an optional chapter that is not needed to be read by those who aren't always too comfortable with smut when they come across a new pairing. Feel free to skip it, or read on. Thank you x

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

Harry felt light kisses against his neck, slowly creeping down to the tip of his collarbone and down his chest. He felt his body heat up, the blood in his veins seeming to boil. He felt a thumb and forefinger pinch at one nipple while he sore Dexter’s mouth dip low and suck and nibble on the other. He moaned loudly, his hips bucking upwards, as a wave of pleasure went through his body.

 

“Dex...”

 

Dexter went back to kissing his neck, and Harry heard to zip of Dexter’s jeans go down. He didn’t feel scared, which was surprising to Harry. This was Dexter. Dexter would stop as soon as he told him to. Dexter would never hurt Harry, ever.

 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Dexter asked, sitting up for a moment and looking down at a completely naked Harry, who felt a little uncomfortable being the only one naked, while Harry was still marvelling at the sight of Dexter with his shirt off. Tan, toned skin - that he knew for a fact was completely soft and u

 

“Harry?”

 

Harry looked up at Dexter’s face again, feeling his face go red at having lost his trail of thought.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry nodded enthusiastically to make up for his lame answer, “I’m ready – I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”

 

Dexter nodded; seeming satisfied with Harry’s answer and slowly pulled off his jeans and his briefs, his erection springing free. Harry stared at it for a moment, eyeing the man’s cock appreciatively, and feeling happy that he still didn’t feel nervous.

 

Dexter searched his bedside drawers and pulled out what appeared to be a condom and a bottle of lube, Harry laughed, “You were totally preparing for this, you shit head.”

 

Dexter laughed and kissed Harry’s lips softly, “maybe,” he said, with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. Harry slapped Dexter’s arm playfully, and Dexter moved back, spreading lube on his fingers. Harry shivered slightly when the less than room temperature lube touched his entrance.

 

“Are you good?” Dexter asked.

 

Harry nodded, “was just cold.”

 

Dexter eyed him warily for a moment before pushing a finger in. It was a little uncomfortable, but as Harry got used to it, he felt pleasure waving through his body. Another finger was added, spreading Harry open, fingering and scissoring him open. Dexter’s fingers curled inside of him and hit something, that made Harry want to scream. Instead, he let out a loud moan, his mouth forming in an ‘O’ shape, spreading his legs wider as he felt the pleasure go throughout his whole body.

 

More fingers were added, the lack of comfort disappearing completely and being replaced only by pleasure.

 

Dexter asked once again whether he was ready and Harry could only reply with a loud moan and streams of begging and complete nonsense. Dexter lined up his cock with Harry’s entrance and pushed in slowly. Harry gripped onto the sheets tightly and kept his eyes closed shut as he felt Dexter’s member push into his body. When Dexter was in, the base of his cock resting against Harry’s rear, Harry’s legs automatically wrapped around his waist and Dexter began to slowly pull back, until his cock was all the way out and then slowly pushed his way back in.

 

Harry groaned loudly, “Come on Dex, harder than that,” he whispered, pushing on Dexter’s lower back with the heels of his feet, making him sink in further. Dexter moaned and pushed in faster than before, adding more pressure once he was in, making Harry moan loudly. He continued to fuck him harder and faster, feeling Harry’s hands tangle into his hair and tug softly at the strands.

 

They came at the same time, moaning loudly. Dexter collapsed on top of Harry; their bodies colliding in a way that made Harry feel complete. He wrapped his arms around Dexter, holding him still.

 

He kissed the older man tiredly, smiling softly up at him.

 

Everything felt perfect.


	13. Chapter 13

Bad Romance

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

“Fuck, I’m going to miss you,” Harry whispered, climbing on top of Dexter’s body on the bed and kissing him soundly – Dexter’s arms immediately wrapped around Harry’s waist. Both lay in bed, completely naked and still enjoying the feeling the glow of post-sex glory.

 

“I’ll miss you too,” Dexter confessed, “but...you have to go back.”

 

Harry nodded, something crossing his eyes that Dexter could quite put his finger on, “I know,” he muttered, burying his face into the crook of Dexter’s neck, “I promise...I’ll come back on day.”

 

Dexter smiled, “I know you will,” he mumbled, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. He cleared his throat, making the dark haired boy look at him, “you never know – when you come back it might actually be legal for me to fuck you senseless.”

 

Harry laughed, the sound warming something deep inside Dexter, “from what I felt last night,” Harry said, “I’d be one hundred percent fine with you fucking me senseless.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“It’s...kind of depressing you know,” Hermione said, “that we’re leaving today, I feel like...I don’t even know how to explain it,” she said, shaking her head as if trying to throw off the thought, “it’s not exactly home,” she muttered, “but it’s close to it.”

 

Harry answered for her, “second home- third - fourth home? How many goddamn homes do you _have_ Hermione?”

 

Hermione laughed.

 

Dexter walked up to the two of them awkwardly, the three of them standing in the lounge room. Both had their bags packed, shrunken, and placed in their pockets, which Dexter had found hilariously fascinating, “are you sure you two are going to be okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

 

Harry and Hermione both nodded at the same time.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Harry said; smiling softly at Dexter, “we always are,” he shrugged.

 

“We’ll be travelling by Portkey,” Hermione said, “another form of travel in the wizarding world,” she continued on to explain after Dexter’s look of confusion.

 

“Right...” Dexter still looked confused, but seemed to shrug it off, “just...be safe, alright?”

 

Hermione smirked, “oh geez Dexter, don’t tell us you’re _actually_ worried about us.”

 

Dexter didn’t respond, as Harry wrapped his arms around Dexter’s neck and kissed him passionately. Not seeming to care that Hermione was right there, watching them. Harry broke the kiss; his arms still wrapped around Dexter’s neck, “I’ll be fine,” he said, “you know me, always the easy life...” he said, a little sarcasm in his tone, “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, “honest.”

 

Dexter nodded and looked at Hermione, who was blushing slightly and averting her gaze, “if he starts being neglectful towards his health, you need to take care of him,” Dexter said, making sure Harry heard him say it. Harry rolled his eyes and stood back.

 

Hermione laughed at Harry’s reaction, “I’m always taking care of him,” she said, “He’s like some irritating child I can’t get rid of.”

 

Harry looked offended, “I resent that.”

 

Harry turned around and grabbed another bag of his from the lounge room and shrunk it, while Hermione walked forward and hugged Dexter tightly. Dexter really wasn’t used to this much hugging.

 

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, “for giving us a place to stay, and I’m sure Draco would say the same, thank you for being there when Harry and I needed you most and thank you, most of all, for saving Harry.”

 

Dexter smiled, “it’s fine...as long as you pay me for it.”

 

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and pushed Dexter away playfully, “you really can’t take anything seriously, can you?”

 

Dexter shrugged, “well, come on, you have to pay the _babysitter_.”

 

Harry walked back towards them, not seeming to have heard the conversation between the two. He turned to Hermione, looking a little teary eyed as he asked, “so, are you ready to leave then?”

 

Hermione nodded, feeling sympathetic for her friend, “cheer up Harry.”

 

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, refusing to look at Dexter. But it was only too obvious that it wasn’t true. Harry wasn’t fine at all – nowhere near it.

 

Hermione sighed, “We’ve got to go,” she said. Harry wasn’t sure whether this was meant for Harry, or Dexter, or the both of them, “otherwise,” she said looking at Harry now, “we’ll miss the Portkey. Plus – Ron is waiting outside.”

 

Harry frowned, “I don’t want to see him.”

 

“Oh, grow up,” she said, sounding irritable, “we’ve got to go back to Hogwarts and we need to finish this assignment whether you like it or not.”

 

Harry looked defeated. He sighed and turned to Dexter, “can I have a word with you for a moment?” he asked.

 

Dexter looked shocked, wondering what Harry could possibly have to say that he didn’t want Hermione to hear. But he nodded nonetheless and followed Harry into his bedroom. When they entered, Dexter’s eyes immediately drifted to the bed. It looked ridiculously empty – like they were supposed to be in it right now. Asleep, cuddling – having sex. It wouldn’t have mattered.

 

“What’s up?” he asked, turning to look at Harry. He was cut off from saying anything more when he felt Harry’s lips crash against his own, making Dexter moan softly into Harry’s mouth, making him smile – one of the few genuine smiles he had had while here. Dexter was disappointed when Harry broke the kiss, placing his forehead on Dexter’s chest.

 

“I...” Harry sighed, “I think I love you and I know it’s really soon and everything but it feels right,” he said quickly, “and I know you might not feel the same – apparently serial killers don’t love much, and-,” he felt Dexter’s hand raising his chin so he complied, and Dexter looked him in the eye.

 

“You’re an idiot,” he said with an amused look, “if you haven’t realized by now that I love you.”

 

Dexter quickly kissed Harry’s forehead before saying, “and I hate for this to end. I don’t want you going back even though I know you have to...”

 

Dexter fished in his pocket for something and placed it in Harry’s hand, “remember me, alright? You don’t ever have to come back – I’d totally understand considering everything that’s happened to you here.”

 

Harry nodded, attempting to open his hand to see what Dexter had placed in it.

 

“No,” Dexter said, “look at it when you’re back in Scotland.”

 

Harry smiled, “I promise,” he said with conviction, “I promise I’ll come back...” he sighed, “This isn’t really goodbye...is it?”

 

Dexter shook his head, “definitely not.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Dexter sighed as he watched Harry, Ron and Hermione all disappear, leaving nothing behind. Absolutely no indication that they had been standing there merely seconds before. No indication that they had even been here or that they existed. It hurt.

 

It was as if everything that had happened was a mixture of a really terrible nightmare and a really good dream. It scared Dexter a little.

 

He called Deb.

 

When she answered he tried his best to sound calm, “hey Deb.”

 

“ _Hey Dex, what’s up? How are you and Harrison?_ ”

 

“Harrison’s fine,” he answered, “he’s with Jamie at the moment. I’m okay, I just...felt like I needed to talk – you know?”

 

“ _Fair enough...did someone catch you making out with Harry or something? Are you in trouble?”_

 

Dexter gave a huge sigh of relief, Harry was real, it had all happened and he was not losing his mind, “no, no. I’m fine – though thanks for asking.”

 

“ _Right...”_ there was a pause and then, “ _Look, Dex, I’ll call you back – you realize you’ve called me at six in the morning, right? I don’t have to get up for another hour..._ ”

 

“Right,” Dexter nodded despite knowing Debra couldn’t see him, “sorry Deb,” he hung up the phone feeling a little calmer now that he knew what had happened the past month was all real.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“In a way, it’s kind of good to be back, isn’t it?” Hermione asked Harry in the Gryffindor common room, in an attempt to make the boy feel better. They were back in their Hogwarts uniforms and sitting down writing their assignment on how to live like a muggle.

 

Harry shrugged, “yeah...”

 

Hermione bit her lip and eyed Harry’s chest for a moment in confusion before asking, “Did you see what Dexter gave you yet?”

 

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, “I’m such an idiot, I forgot!” he practically jumped off of the couch and ran to the boys dormitory and searched through the pockets of his jeans that he’d been wearing before. He panicked when he didn’t find it there – as Harry began rummaging around the room he stood on something cold. He looked down on the ground.

 

What appeared to be a scalpel head lay on the floor. As Harry picked it up he realized it hung on a chain and that the fine sharp edge of the scalpel was covered with a coating of clear rubber or plastic. Probably so it wouldn’t actually cause any damage. All it said on the back was _Dexter_.

 

“I wanted to go for something more romantic personally,” Hermione said, “but Dexter isn’t the biggest romancer in the world.”

 

Harry frowned, “so...wait...you know what Dexter is?” he asked with a small frown.

 

Hermione nodded, “he told me a while ago. I was...fine with it, I guess. He explained it all to me and well...I guess that’s the least terrible version of serial killer one can be...besides – I knew you liked him, and you seemed so happy. I didn’t want to wreck anything for you especially when I didn’t think he would actually hurt you.”

 

Harry smiled softly, “thanks...”

 

“On the other side it says your name,” she said matter-of-factly. She walked towards Harry, grabbing the necklace out of Harry’s hand and helped him put it on, placing it around the boy’s neck delicately, “it’s up to you whether you want to wear it out in the open, or under your robes.”

 

Harry grabbed the necklace and hid it under his robes, “under my robes,” he muttered, liking how the coldness felt on his skin. How it felt like Dexter.

 

“I don’t want to...ruin the moment,” Hermione said, “but...Draco’s funeral service is tomorrow – do you think you’re going to be ready for that?” she asked, looking sympathetic.

 

Harry shook his head, “no, but...”

 

 _Be strong_ a voice in Harry’s head said, sounding a lot like Dexter’s.

 

“I can do this,” Harry said with a small sigh, “I can be strong.”

 

 

 

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not going to lie. I do have plans for a sequel. While this was a re-write of a fanfiction I wrote when I'd just turned fifteen, I am now seventeen years old turning eighteen. The sequel to the terrible original was never written, and so I have plans to do so. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the fanfiction and I do have plans to write more Hexter fanfiction in the future - so if you enjoy this ship, uh...follow me or whatever you guys do on here so you know when I upload Hexter stuff?   
> (noob on this website)


	14. ALERT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an alert about Reminiscent, the sequel(?) to Bad Romance!

The sequel to Bad Romance is up for all of those who wish to continue on with this "universe"! It is called Reminiscent and you should be able to access it by scrolling to the bottom of this page or going into my series or works panel :) 

If not - here's the link! 

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4518987


End file.
